


And Then, You Destroy Yourself

by deanisthesun (become_normal)



Category: All the President's Men (1976), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Politics, An Excessive Use Of Pop-Culture References, Bottom Castiel, Community: deancasbigbang, Cringe-worthy Manipulation Of Historical Events To My Own Purposes, F/M, Hate to Love, Homophobia, M/M, Pining Castiel, Shipper Sam, Slow Build, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Watergate, Writer Castiel, Writer Dean, also what is geography idk but it's clearly not my major, mentions of past physical abuse, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 02:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 58,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/become_normal/pseuds/deanisthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Woodward is starting his first year of college and all he wants to do is get through the year, keep a low profile, and not cause trouble. All of this goes to shit when he meets the editor of the school newspaper, Charlie Bradbury, and joins the writing team for the Bernstein College Post. All of this goes more to shit when he befriends Dean Winchester, a second year Journalism major, and they begin to uncover what turns out to be the biggest scandal the school has ever seen. The story takes them on a cross-country journey from Washington D.C. to Coastal California, looking for any and every lead to help them solve the case, and somewhere along the way they just might find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Woodward

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by the events of the [Watergate Scandal](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watergate_scandal) (set in modern times) as well as the resulting investigation by [Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein](http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/politics/special/watergate/part1.html) and the subsequent movie [All The Presidents Men (1976)](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074119/). If you have any questions about the historical accuracy of the fic or anything surrounding the actual event of Watergate, don’t hesitate to throw your question in my [ask box](http://www.deanisthesun.tumblr.com/ask). The Cold War is probably my favourite era in history to study and I would love nothing more than to just talk about it all day.
> 
> I am indebted to a number of people for this fic, so firstly I’d like to give a HUGE thank you to [Becca](http://www.beccabuttons.tumblr.com) for the illustrations who did such a fantastic job on such short notice. She is my beautiful golden haired princess and I love her.
> 
> I’d also like to thank [Sydney](http://www.busboysandbellhops.tumblr.com), the Bernstein to my Woodward, for her help with the story which we have agreed to call ‘world-building and then ditching half way through’. More commonly known now as ‘pulling a Sydney’. In all honesty though I owe this fic to you, and no matter how much we joke about it that will always be true. 
> 
> Of course the story would not look like it does without my wonderful editors [Rachael](http://www.thehalfbritishtimelord.tumblr.com) and [Jess](http://www.laameinvisible.tumblr.com). I am nothing without your fantastic grammar and amazing ideas. 
> 
> To my wonderful cheerleader [Breanne](http://www.needsmoreyellow.tumblr.com) who let me whine and complain to her about epicly failing at keeping up with deadlines. You make me want to be a better writer and a kinder person, though I will never meet the bar that you have set in either of those things. 
> 
> And lastly to [Elizabeth](http://www.paxcanadiana.tumblr.com); my fact-checker when I lacked internet, my inspiration when I had none, and always and forever the Cas to my Dean.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

**Book One: All the President’s Friends**

_“Those who hate you don’t win unless you hate them. And then, you destroy yourself.” - Richard Nixon (August 9th, 1974)_

When Castiel Woodward arrived on his first day of college to Bernstein College, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

He followed the main hoard of students to the heart of campus where there was a large, square building to the left with enormous letters spelling out ‘Campus Centre’ and underneath that in blue and gold block letters a handwritten sign reading ‘Clubs Fair’. He wasn't going to go in, he really wasn't. Maybe he should have thought about making the best of this year. Everyone he'd talked to about college told him that it was going to be the best years of his life. Year in his case. But at this point college felt less like an amazing experience and more like being put on death row and knowing exactly when you're going to swing from the noose. It was the throng of the crowd that pushed him up the sweeping steps and through the heavy front doors.

The long hallway was buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming year. There were tables and booths set up down both sides of the hall sporting banners reading various things like ‘Join Alpha-Pi Nu!’ and ‘So You Think You Might Like Football?’ which Castiel was fairly certain he did not.

The crowd jostled him around awkwardly, the space felt too small and too cramped and he needed to get out of there now. Castiel found a smaller hallway that jutted off the main hallway that was far less packed. Here, he could slip through the crowd with ease, and surprisingly, he found himself unable to tear away from any of the displays here. He soon realized that he was signed up for newsletters and email alerts to clubs and events he’d never heard of before. He smiled softly at the girl behind the Pride Centre desk with electroshock purple hair, who grinned and waved energetically in reply. He paused to listen to a heated debate between what seemed to be two opposing political groups in the school and after hearing the boy in the blue shirt call the girl with the red banner a creep he signed up to join the girl's party. He stopped at the next booth to ask what exactly ‘Quidditch’ was and was pulled into a ten minute long discussion about why Harry Potter is the greatest book series of all time. The next table he came to had a relatively plain sign and a thin girl with striking red hair sitting behind the table.

“Hey there kiddo, I’m Charlie Bradbury. What can I do for you?” she smiled up at him expectantly. He peered closer at the sign.

“The… BC Post. You guys are the school newspaper?”

“Yep!”

“What do you guys write about?” he asked. She started up on a clearly pre-rehearsed pitch.

“The BC Post is committed to the highest standards of reporting, covering stories from sports news, to advice columns, to the most recent heated elections between the Blue Party and the CREEPs –”

“You shouldn’t call people creepy,” Castiel interjected, surprising the girl, Charlie, as much as himself. She gave him a confused stare before bursting into a fit of laughter. Castiel stared at her, completely befuddled.

“Aww, freshmen are so cute. What’s your name kid?”

“Castiel Woodward,” he replied softly.

“Castiel, everyone calls them the CREEPs because that’s what their party initials spell out. Well, technically it’s CREP, but no one wants to call them the CREPs. It stands for the Conservative Realist Electoral Party."

Castiel immediately felt silly and dropped his eyes to the floor. Whispering a small “oh”, he moved to walk away.

“Hey, hey! Hold up kid, it’s okay. What is it, like your first day at school here? You can’t be expected to know shit like that.” Charlie softened considerably. “Why don’t you come by the office tomorrow and we’ll see if we can set you up with a desk.”

Castiel perked up. “You mean I could be a reporter on your newspaper?”

“Yeah for sure, kid. Do you have any background in journalism?”

Castiel paused, deciding how he wanted to answer her question. It would have been easier if he had walked up to the ‘Young Catholics of Bernstein College’ booth and they asked him if he had any background in religious knowledge, he could have said yes and been telling the truth. Or if he had visited the astronomy club’s table and they’d asked if he knew about the stars and the planets and how fast the earth spins and how far it is from the sun, he could have said yes and been telling the truth. If he had approached the history department’s stall and they asked him what date the Peace of Westphalia was signed and what were the causes of the French Revolution, he could have said yes and been telling the truth.

But he didn’t. Castiel Woodward walked up to the booth that held BC University’s only professional newspaper and the nice girl behind the desk told him that he could have a place on the paper, he could belong somewhere, if he had any kind of background in journalism.

Castiel Woodward didn’t know a single thing about journalism.

“Yes,” he replied. “I love journalism.”

______________________________________

Bernstein College’s newspaper was, as Charlie had put it, ‘the pride and joy of this otherwise shit-hole of a college’. This was evident in the newspaper office itself. The Post’s HQ was located on the second level of the Arts building. It was a large L-shaped room that wrapped around what appeared to be half the floor. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows lined the exterior walls and let in enough light throughout the day to not warrant the stereotypical fluorescent lights found in most college classrooms. Instead, eclectic lamps of various sizes, shapes, and colours littered the desks of all the reporters. Castiel thought that it was perhaps some sort of initiation that everyone got one and he made a mental note to ask Charlie about it later.

While the room itself was an ideal location, and the original design must have been quite nice, he could tell that the place had aged somewhat and was no longer considered ‘modern’. The desks were doodled on and scratched up and the chairs didn’t look much better. While most of the students brought their laptops to the office, the computers they had running along the sides of one wall were at least eight years old. At a glance, there was little to no organization of the place, which was apparent from the papers haphazardly strewn everywhere and other pieces of furniture that seemed to be pushed around for whatever purpose the person was using them needed them for. There was a beaten couch in the corner that looked well-loved to say the least. For all that the school loved the paper, it was obvious it could not maintain a steady upkeep of the place with its limited budget.

Charlie Bradbury was a Masters student who worked as a TA and the head editor on the BC Post. She technically shared the position with a young man from Louisiana named Benny, also a Masters student, who had admitted to Castiel upon meeting him that Charlie really ran the ship around here. Castiel prided himself on being a fairly good judge of character and felt that while Charlie and Benny were both decent people, something about Benny was very standoffish. Cas figured that he just took some warming up to as everyone else on the paper that he had been introduced to so far seemed to like him quite a lot.

After Charlie and Benny, Cas was led around to meet the rest of the people present that Charlie called her ‘newsies’. First was a small, blonde girl in a checkered sweater vest and a grey pencil skirt named Becky Rosen. Becky was very intense and seemed to be constantly enthusiastic about everything. She pulled him over to a disheveled man who appeared to be very hungover, or perhaps even still drunk from the night before, and introduced him as Chuck Shurley. Chuck and Becky were friends from highschool and sat at desks across from each other in the office. Chuck was the reporter for the Department of English and Becky ran an advice column. Benny steered Cas away from the two reporters about thirty seconds after Becky started in on a tangent about something she called ‘shipping’.

The next person Castiel was introduced to was a girl from England who introduced herself in a sultry voice as Bela Talbot. Bela apparently wrote stories on whatever she felt like that week and Charlie and Benny appeared much too intimidated to tell her to do anything else. She was apparently, an amazing writer anyways and a popular reporter in the school. Despite the fact that Bela appeared to be undressing him with her eyes, Benny pulled him aside to whisper that she was way out of his league and that if he tried anything, she would probably eat him alive. Castiel promised that he would definitely not ‘try anything’.

At that moment, a petite blonde girl followed by a tall sandy-haired boy carrying a stack of boxes walked into the room having an argument about something that sounded like it had to do with superheroes.

“Jo, you’re freaking crazy. There is no way that Iron Man even comes close to the awesomeness that is Batman. I mean Batman is like the definition of awesome. If you look up the word ‘awesome’ in the dictionary, you get a picture of Batman.”

“Yeah well if you look up the word ‘idiot’ in the diction you get a picture of you!”

The boy set the boxes down on a desk close by and turned around to face the small gathering of people around Bela’s desk.

“Charlie, back me up on this. Iron Man, or Batman?” he asked Charlie emphatically. She crossed her arms and shook her head, a small smile creeping onto her face.

“You’re both idiots. Wonder Woman is where it’s at.” Charlie and the sandy-haired boy stared at each other for a short moment before Charlie threw her arms up with a wide grin and exclaimed “C’mere you big dork...”

The boy walked to her in three easy strides and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her until they were both cackling. He set her down and they continued to embrace for a few seconds. Castiel wondered if they were romantically involved, they seemed to have a lot of love for each other.

“I missed you, Charlie,” the boy said, pulling away.

“I did not miss you and your antics, Winchester,” Charlie grouched without any real resentment in her voice. Benny came up behind the boy as Charlie turned to greet Jo warmly.

“Hey, brother. How did summer treat you?”

“Benny!” the young man exclaimed, throwing his arms around his friend. The boy apparently seemed to enjoy hugging people quite a lot, Castiel noted. “It was great, man. Mom’s good, Sammy’s great. That’s all I need,” he smiled brightly.

“I think you also need to wear more sunscreen because you definitely got some more freckles there, man.” Benny chuckled at the boy’s obvious embarrassment, a pink flush covering his face brought out his already obvious freckles even more. His further embarrassment was averted when Charlie grasped Castiel’s shoulder firmly and pushed him forward slightly into the boy’s line of sight. Castiel’s gaze was met with the most startling pair of green eyes he had ever seen.

“Castiel, this is Dean.” Charlie’s voice echoed from somewhere behind his head but Cas wasn’t paying attention to the redhead behind him. All of his focus was centred on the man in front of him.

Dean was undeniably one of the most handsome people Cas had ever met. He looked as though he had been pulled off the cover of some romance novel. Though upon examining a certain uniqueness and effeminate nature of his features, Cas amended his earlier thought. Dean was gorgeous by modern standards, sure, but his beauty echoed a more classic time as well. It would be more accurate to say he was pulled out of an old knights tale, or resembled an ancient God from Greco-Roman times. Someone Homer would have described in the Odyssey, or Michelangelo could have chiseled from marble. A certain unstatable beauty from a more natural time played easily across his light tanned skin, dotted in freckles.

Upon realizing he had been staring in a trance at the man in front of him for quite some time now, and that he had an audience of people around him, Cas stiffly stuck out his hand for Dean to shake.

“Hello Dean,” he said a little more forcefully than necessary, but smiling nonetheless. Dean grinned back, his eyes shining. Cas privately thought that Dean looked a bit like the sun.

“Hey,” Dean smiled. “Sorry, what did Charlie say your name was again?” His smile faltered for a moment but the warmth in his eyes wasn’t lost.

“Castiel.”

“Cas,” Dean nodded. Castiel was surprised by the quick shortening of his name. His brothers always called him ‘Cassy’ but he was always under the impression that nicknames were given once you had formed a close bond with someone. Apparently things worked a little differently in Dean’s book. “That’s cool. Look, we’re all going to this party later this evening, so if you wanna get settled in we were all going to head down there around six.”

Cas paused for a moment. He wasn’t usually a fan of parties, or over-socialization, but this crowd seemed like a decent group of people, so he quickly agreed to go.

~

It wasn’t a frosh party, not quite. It was a party, and there were freshmen present, but the majority of party goers were upperclassmen that had heard about the free beer and decided to crash. The fraternity and its sister sorority had rented out one of the practice soccer fields and set up a massive white tent to accommodate the several hundred people present. While the grass floor had the benefit of not requiring mopping after spills, there was a consistent slosh underfoot from the amount of beer muddying the ground. The DJ catered to popular music tastes with remixes of top 40 tracks and there was a dance floor of sorts in the general center of the tent.

Circling the walls were tables with dozens of kegs of beer with red cups littered around them. Despite their best efforts, the lines for alcohol were frighteningly long considering the beer to water content in the kegs was nothing too desirable. To compensate most people chose to show up buzzed and brought with them their own concoctions that were mixed with whatever chase was available, or not at all.

Greek upperclassmen wore their respective spirit wear to support their ongoing rush. Some frosh were still wearing their faculty t-shirts but seeing the large amount of upperclassmen Cas was glad he had elected to wear his typical white collared shirt and blue tie so not to attract unwanted frosh jokes. Not that Cas’s choice of clothing went without it’s problems.

“Bro, what are you wearing? You on your way to church or something?” The frat boy was sadly living down to the worst of his stereotype with his brightly coloured polo with its collar up and a snap-back of some basketball team turned backwards. He leaned over Cas as he spoke, clearly having lost his judgement of personal space several Budweisers ago. Cas could smell his breath and was forced to lean away from the scent.

“No, these are just my clothes. Excuse me.” Cas avoided the frat boy’s eyes and slipped away, thinking that perhaps going to this party was not a good idea. Charlie had said she would meet him there, but Cas doubted he would be able to spot her in the massive crowd, and was not interested in looking through the dance floor.

Cas would not call himself a drinker, alcohol was rarely consumed in his house outside of wine on special occasions, so he had not thought to drink ahead of time, nor did he want to wait in a line of loud people for access to beer. He set himself off to the side, wondering if he should wait for Charlie or head home and claim he stayed longer to look for her. Cas disliked that he was already slipping back into his shy tendencies.

“Oooh I like your tie!” This time a short girl in health sciences, according to her neon green t-shirt that was shredded vertically across her midriff and sleeves covered in glitter glue swirls, was standing before him sloshing her drink in its red solo cup. “You look so professional! I love a man in a tie. It’s so raunchy.”  She made a throaty sound and grabbed the offending article and tugged Cas towards her level.At this Cas froze. How was he supposed to deal with girls when they acted like this?

“Um, thank you?” he tried.

“You’re welcome. You’re cute by the way. I’m Sarah, what’s your name?”

Before Cas had the chance to answer, someone’s arm was reaching across his shoulders.

“Hey there Sarah, sorry to tell you this but Cas here is kinda busy.” Dean. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else in a tie for the evening.” As he spoke he reached with his other hand and gently pried Sarah’s hand of Cas’s tie and turned her by the shoulder, giving a gentle push towards the centre of the tent. Sarah followed his gesture and glided back into the crowd, clearly already distracted. Cas let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“Thanks, I didn’t know what to say.” Cas looked at Dean’s hand still resting on his shoulder. Dean followed his gaze and quickly removed it. They stood awkwardly together, just outside the circle of bodies dancing to pumping music. Dean was both too close, and not nearly close enough. Cas painfully noted that he still wasn’t really sure what to say. This is exactly why he promised himself that he wouldn’t try and force himself into awkward social situations this year. Keeping to himself had always worked in the past.

“I guess this party isn’t really your scene, huh?” Dean said, practically reading his mind.

“It’s not what I spend most Friday nights doing, if that’s what you mean,” Cas shrugged. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up a little.

“What do you spend most Friday nights doing then?” he said smirking. Meeting his eyes, Cas recognized the same heated look the girl, Sarah, had given him, but Dean’s was giving him a much different reaction. He was immediately thankful that Charlie finally decided to show up.

“Wow Dean. Way to cock-block.” Charlie sauntered over, holding two red cups, one of which she handed Cas. Dean scowled at her over his own drink.

“Did you see the look on his face, Charlie? That chick was not appreciated.”

“Sure, Dean,” Charlie laughed and winked. Dean cleared his throat and looked over her head at the dance crowd with the air of looking for someone. Cas watched the exchange with wide eyes and took a sip from the drink Charlie had handed him.

“Oh, that’s disgusting. What’s in this?” Cas grimaced and tried to swallow away the taste. Charlie and Dean shared a look and a quick laugh at Cas’s expense.

“That, my friend, is far too much vodka with far too little Mountain Dew. Don’t ask me why, or how, but that’s what we got out hands on, so that’s what we’re drinking,” Charlie explained, with a pitying expression. “Here, give me the rest of yours and Dean will get you something else.”

“I will?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Mmhm. And if you get Cas something he actually likes, I’ll move your story on the freshman that somehow managed to fall off a four story building and walk away to the third page,” Charlie said, smiling brightly.

“Fine,” Dean sighed, “but only if you promise to use your skills of persuasion for good.” He downed the last of his drink in one sip without a grimace and sauntered back into the fray.

Charlie turned to Cas and asked “So, kiddo, how’s it going at your first kegger?”

Cas smiled sheepishly. “Okay, I guess.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Dean and I saw that girl fawning over you, you looked like deer in the headlights.”

Castiel paused, unsure of how much to divulge in only his third meeting with Charlie. “Dating is, unsurprisingly, not one of the things I’m good at.” It wasn’t a lie, Cas was terrible at dating, but he figured he’d probably be even worse at it with girls.

“Oh, hon.” Charlie threw him a sympathetic glance. “Not to scare you or anything, but I’m pretty sure that girl did not have dating on the mind.”

“Oh.” Cas gulped, his eyes widening and glancing around the room for any distraction.

“Seeeeex.” Charlie grinned devilishly. “She wanted to have the sex with you, Cas.” Charlie nodded in earnest. Cas’s eyes flicked between her and the girl, Sarah, from before. His parents had forewarned him about this when he first told them he wanted to go to college. Premarital sex was not tolerated under his father’s roof, nor was it acceptable for Castiel to engage in such activities elsewhere. His father had said that girls in college are not all Catholic and that they may tempt him away from God’s light. His mother had said that if any girls wanted to touch him, or asked him to touch them, that he should politely decline and ask them instead if they wanted guidance in finding God’s place in their life. Of course, a few months later his parents found much bigger issues with their youngest son that they thought should be dealt with first.

“What in the name of all that is good and holy in this world are you talking to this kid about to make him pull a face like that?” Castiel was pulled back from his thoughts by Benny, coming up behind Charlie and pulling her into a one-armed hug. Charlie smiled up at him warmly.

“Oh, nothing. School, alcohol, sex with girls.” Charlie sniggered back at Cas’s helpless stare.

Benny whistled, giving Cas’s rigid posture and downright frightened demeanor a once over before replying with a laugh “C’mon Charlie, give the poor kid a break. He looks like he’s never seen a naked woman in his life.”

“Oh yeah, you sympathetic to his cause?” Charlie teased back. Benny laughed heartily, taking the playful jibe in stride.

“Well we all know that you’re not...”

“Damn right. Don’t you forget it.”

“Don’t forget wha- holy shit, what the fuck did you guys do to Cas?” Dean returned, carrying two beers in one hand, and a bottle opener in the other.

“Oh don’t worry about him, he’s fine. You’re fine, aren’t ya Cas?” Charlie asked, clearly fishing for an answer. He nodded.

Dean popped both caps off the bottles, and handed one to Cas, meeting his eyes and mouthing ‘are you okay?’

Cas took the beer from him, tearing his eyes away from Charlie and Benny who were grinning at him expectantly. “I’m good,” he nodded and smiled. “A little overwhelmed with everything.” Dean grinned at him.

“Have a beer, you’ll relax. I don’t know what you like so I just grabbed you my favourite.”

“I’ve never had a beer before, so I don’t know what I like either,” he replied smiling.

“You’ve never had a beer before?” Dean asked, looking very puzzled.

Cas shrugged, glanced down at the label on the bottle. He’d never heard of it before but if it was Dean’s favourite and he’d gone to all the trouble to get him one too, he didn’t want to be rude. Cas brought the bottle to his lips, pausing a moment before tipping it back, and taking a small sip.

“You like it?” Dean asked him. Castiel stared at the bottle for a moment longer before looking into Dean’s eyes and nodded. Dean pumped the air.

“YES! My story gets the front page, ha!” he teased to Charlie.

“Woah, woah, woah. All I said was that it wouldn’t end up on the third page. That story isn’t worth front page news. Second page is yours.” Dean moped, but still took her offer well enough.

Cas took another sip. “It’s actually quite good.” Cas didn’t have much knowledge in what was good alcohol or not. His experience was limited to the wine they had during the Eucharist at church, but he enjoyed the taste of this beer enough. A warm smile spread across Dean’s face that did all kinds of things to Castiel’s insides. As a distraction, he lifted the bottle again and drained it after only a few seconds. Then he set the bottle on a the table next to them and wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

“Holy shit, Cas!” Charlie exclaimed. “Who woulda guessed you’d be such a drinker...” Cas shrugged.

“Eyes front, soldier.” mumbled Benny. Cas looked at him, his brow furrowing, but Benny wasn’t looking back. He was instead not in fact talking to him at all but to Dean who was currently in some sort of transfixed state, his eyes fixated on Castiel.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean mumbled, still focused on Cas.

Cas looked from Dean to Charlie extremely lost. “I didn’t s-”

“No. No rookie freshman who’s never had a drink in his life downs a full beer in ten seconds flat stays on his feet.”

“C’mon, brotha, it wasn’t that impressive.” Benny scoffed. “That beer you got there’s only 5%.”

“Fine.” Dean handed Cas his untouched beer. “Have mine too.”

“Deeeeeean...” Charlie sighed. Dean gaze doesn’t drift from Cas once as he holds out the bottle tauntingly. After a moment of deliberation, Cas takes the bottle from his hands.

“I believe the phrase is... ‘challenge accepted’.”

Dean stared unbelievingly back at Cas’s audacity as Charlie cheered him on. Their voices chanting ‘Cas! Cas! Cas! Cas! Cas!’ as he once again tipped the beer back, this time not breaking eye contact with Dean once. The green-eyed boy bit his lip and shook his head as Cas finished off the last dregs of the beer, Charlie still cheering madly in the background. Other members of the newspaper arrived at the party and joined her with their support. In some mad rush of confidence, Cas tossed the empty beer bottle into one of the recycling bins stationed around the walls of the tent about ten feet away. Even over the loud pumping music he heard the bottle slam through the hole at the top of the bin and crash into the pile of glass bottles beneath it, meeting its target with ease. He spun around, raising his hands to his side in a proud shrug.

Three or four members of the newsies ran over to clap him on the back. Jo Harvelle, who was currently too drunk to have any good ideas, decided at that moment to speak every thought on her mind.

“Dean Winchester, I challenge you to a drink-off on Castiel’s behalf! Someone get them ten shots each lined up!!”

As the crowd chanted ‘Drink off! Drink off!’ Cas looked at Dean shaking his head furiously, all of his previous confidence gone. Dean strided over to him.

“Dean, I don’t think this is a very good idea and I’m not quite sure if-”

“Cas shh. Calm down. I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” he paused. “Unfortunately I don’t think I can say the same for Jo...” Dean replied apologetically looking back at Jo who was currently clearing off a portion of the table by sliding her arms along the top and knocking everything onto the floor obnoxiously, then lining up ten shots on either side. “Of course... if you think you can’t do it...” he teased.

Cas rolled his eyes and smiled slightly. Looking back into Dean’s questioning but serious expression though Cas dropped the facade.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know if I can do it. I have never had a serious drink of alcohol before this night. But...” he paused before looking wistfully into Dean’s eyes “... I want to do it. I’m just worried about what might happen.”

Dean rested a hand on his shoulder. “How about this. I challenge you to a drink-off, but I promise you that win or lose, I’ll make sure that nothing bad happens to you, and that you get home safe tonight.”

Cas paused for a moment to collect himself. His parents were wrong.

College students weren’t all rough or mean. The people he had met outside of the church community had so far been nicer to him than those within the community had been in the past few months. Charlie’s unwavering kindness from the moment they had met, right up until she had officially offered him the position two days ago, and all of the reporters’ such easy acceptance of a new member into their group was refreshing. And now Dean with his sweet promises of safety that made Cas feel cared for in a way that had been lacking so much in recent months. To be fair, there was probably a better time and a better place for this particular revelation than late at night at a terrible frosh party so he gathered himself together and met Dean’s eyes.

“Well I guess I’ll repeat what I said before then.” Dean waited, mouth parted slightly. “Challenge accepted.”

 

Cas was declared the winner when most of the way through their second round of shots, Dean, after missing his mouth completely and pouring the vodka into his eye, blindly slammed his hand down on the table to grab his next shot and overestimated the force necessarily, effectively smashing the small glass and slicing two of his fingers.

There had been a mad dash on behalf of the newsies who began looking for makeshift bandages, or the real thing if they could find it. They were currently sitting in a circle under the tent on a less soaked section of the grass which they had relocated to after Chuck had found some toilet paper and mostly clean dish towels. Jo and Cas had tracked down some duct tape to keep the whole thing together, and wrapped it tightly around Dean’s third and fourth fingers.

Dean himself was now rested lazily with his head in Charlie’s lap and his feet casually thrown over Jo’s legs. Cas was seated in between Jo and Becky, throwing glances to Dean every few minutes who seemed to be completely lost to the world and Cas’s constant apologies.

“Cas, man! It was not your fault!” Chuck cried after Cas’s fifth or sixth attempt at saying sorry to a completely unfazed Dean.

“Seriously if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m gonna kick your face in.” Jo added.

Cas shuffled a few inches away from her.

“Jeez, Jo. Way to scare the kid on his first day...” it was the first coherent thing Dean had mumbled in the past twenty minutes and every head in the circle snapped to where he was lying on the ground.

“You scared me you bastard!” Jo said, slapping his calf with a little more force than necessary. He giggled. Giggled.

“You caaaare about me Jo Harvelle.” He smiled, poking at her with his feet. The smile was quickly wiped off his face when she threw his legs out of her lap and stood up abruptly.

“You’re an asshole, Dean Winchester.” she looked to the rest of the group. “Does anyone want a water? I think I saw some in the back.”

Chuck, Bela and Charlie raised their hands. Jo turned and walked away into the slowly dissipating crowd.

“So Cas,” Becky started. “How has your first college party been?” Cas looked down at Dean who gave him an alcohol-induced, shit-eating grin.

“Fairly eventful, I’d say,” replied Cas, shaking his head at Dean.

“What are you majoring in, Cas?” asked Charlie.

“Or are you undeclared, like me?” Chuck laughed.

“Chuck don’t be proud of that. You’re in third year,” said Benny, a hint of honest concern in his voice.

“Yeah if you don’t get your shit together soon I’m gonna kick you off the paper,” Charlie added in a tone that Cas was coming to know meant ‘serious business’.

“Weren’t we interrogating the new kid a minute ago?” Chuck changed the subject quickly.

“Oh yeah!” Becky jumped. “You never told us what your major was, Castiel.”

“I’m majoring in Theology and English,” he replied.

“Ooh, he’s a good Christian boy,” Bela grinned. “Who wants to corrupt him first?”

“Oh please,” Charlie laughed. “His new boss is a left-wing, socialist lesbian. We have passed the point of corruption and are now moving into the territory of conversion.” she said as the group laughed.

“You’re gay?” Cas asked. Hope swelling in his chest of the possibility of being accepted on another level by these people as well.

“We’re all a little gay, Cas,” Charlie replied with feigned prolific seriousness. “Isn’t that right, Dean?” she added jokingly. He rolled his eyes up at her, sharing some sort of inside joke that Castiel obviously didn’t understand.

“Some of us more than others, Charlie.”

They both seemed so confident about the whole thing, it took Castiel by surprise a little. “We gonna have a problem with that?” Charlie added hesitantly.

“No no, not at all,” Cas reassured. “I just... I actually thought you and Dean were dating,” he said sheepishly, and realized immediately that he was very misinformed about the nature of their relationship as both Dean and Charlie had equal looks of horror on their faces.

“Oh, oh god, get off me,” Charlie said shoving Dean off her. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”

“Dude that would be like fucking my sister, ew no,” Dean cringed. shuffling a few spaces away from Charlie. The change in position seemed to shake him out of his delirium. Jo returned, four water bottles in hand, and plopped herself down in the large space between Dean and Charlie, pushing Dean even closer towards Cas.

“You are never gonna believe who I just saw talking to some freshmen over by the front entrance,” Jo said, throwing the bottles across the circle to those who had asked for one.

“Let me guess, was it that stupid pop star who was playing at the concert earlier?” asked Dean.

“No, dumbass,” she hit him. “It was Nick Richardson.”

The grumbles that passed through the circle alerted Cas that clearly he was an unfavourable character amongst the school, or at least in the group.

“Who is Nick Richardson?” he decided to ask.

“Nick Richardson?” Dean repeated, turning to his right to face Cas and grinning. “How do I even begin to explain Nick Richardson?”

“Oh no...” Benny groaned, as if he had heard this a hundred times and still refused to participate.

“Nick Richardson is flawless,” Charlie started, oozing with sarcasm.

“I hear his car is insured for $10,000,” said Chuck with false enthusiasm.

“I hear he does political commercials... in Japan.”

“His favourite movie is All The Presidents Men.”

“One time he met Sarah Palin on a plane-”

“-And she told him that he was handsome.”

“One time he punched me in the face.” Cas looked at Dean in shock.

“It was awesome,” Dean finished. The group broke into another ridiculous fit of laughter.

“Okay, but who is he, and why was that awesome?” Cas asked Charlie, decidedly not mentioning the strange inside joke that just went around the circle.

“Nick Richardson is the president of the BCSA, and a CREEP. He is such an absolute dick, that pissing him off has become a source of amusement for the Post,” Charlie explained. “We’re supposed to remain impartial, but come on. The guy isn’t exactly the embodiment of honesty, you know what I’m sayin’? I mean, it’s not like he’s done anything wrong, to be honest the school loves him. He’s only beginning his third year, and so long as he doesn’t do something stupid or illegal, he’ll probably get re-elected in April.”

Cas nodded in understanding and then paused. “Wait. His party is the CREEPs you said?” The group nodded. “Oh.” He looked down at his scuffed sneaker, picking at one of the laces looking a little ashamed.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Becky asked.

He looked back up around the circle of people all staring at him, waiting for his answer. “Well...” he stopped, “I think I umm... accidentally on the first day... kind of... signed up to be a member of that group,” he trailed off quietly. The circle erupted into groans.

“Cas why?!” Jo exclaimed, shaking her hands at him.

“I didn’t know who they were! And I felt bad for the girl behind at their booth because the other boy was being mean to her.”

“Awwwwww, Cas,” Becky cooed. “That’s actually so sweet of you.” She smiled at him in adoration.

“Goddamn it,” Chuck groaned, “even when the kid fucks up he gets it right.” the tension in the circle relaxing somewhat. Cas smiled and looked down at his watch, noticing that the time was well after two o’clock.

“Oh shoot,” he scrambled to stand up “it’s really gotten late, and I’m in the residence complex across campus. I should probably head back.” Dean stood up, wobbling a bit on shaky legs.

“Alright buddy, let’s head back then.” Cas shook his head.

“No, no. You’re injured and obviously very drunk. I’ll be fine.”

Dean threw him a pained grin, stretching his arms above his head, his shirt riding up just slightly and Castiel definitely did not indulgently glance at the exposed inch of tanned skin just above the waistline of Dean’s jeans. And he definitely didn’t say a silent prayer hoping Dean had not caught him looking.

“Nah, I said I would, it’s no biggie. C’mon, Cas.” Dean slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Cas waved goodbye at the rest of the group, earning a few waves back from those who were not too drunk to function, and stepped out of the tent behind Dean.

“So,” Dean started, peering down a little at Cas “first college party ever... what did you think of it?”

Cas worried his lips and considered Dean’s question. Under the tent had been dark and stuffy and the majority of the people there he had found himself wishing would just back off. He had worried during some parts of the night that he was crazy for coming here, that he would never fit in amongst the boisterous party-goers and those who seemed to have no care in the world, free of any consequence for their actions. But walking through the deserted streets of the college campus with the cool air blowing through his hair, Cas’s head cleared enough to reflect on the finer points of the party. The newsies, as Charlie continuously called them, had welcomed him with open arms and laughed and joked with him as if they had known each other for years. Even those whom he had a shaky first meeting with, like Benny, had warmed up to him. In their company, the party had been relatively enjoyable.

“It was... fun.” Cas decided. “First party ever, actually,” he added.

“Dude, what?!” Dean yelped. “How have you never been to a party?”

Cas smiled. “Apart from family events and my parents work functions-”

Dean cut him off with a hearty laugh. “Doesn’t count, dude.” Dean grinned. Cas secretly thought to himself that Dean had a very nice smile.

“I didn’t think so,” he replied. “I guess I’ve just never had the occasion.”

They talked the whole way back to Cas’s dorm. Surprisingly, Cas found it easy to make conversation with Dean, he’d never been able to make small talk with people easily before. He loves people, but they often this of him as closed off and cold.In reality, he just doesn’t know what to say most of the time. Dean on the other hand is warm and inviting and Cas finds it almost second nature to be able to respond to him.

They talk about everything from school to hobbies to their families back home. Cas learns that although Dean is very good at both mechanical and computer engineering, writing is his true passion which is why he’s majoring in journalism. Cas asks about the women’s studies minor and Dean replies with a laugh that it’s to pick up chicks, obviously. He says it differently though and there’s something off about his laugh. Cas doesn’t know him well enough to quite place the emotion but he’s pretty sure the answer was a lie.

Cas tells Dean that he always wanted to study metaphysics in college but his parents said that it wouldn’t be a useful degree and suggested theology instead. At that remark, they begin to talk about their families more. Dean learns that Cas has three siblings, all of which have now moved out of the house. Raphael who left some time ago, Anna who is at a community college for visual art in Oregon, and Gabriel who left just last year and has apparently been travelling the world doing odd jobs. Although Cas has almost no knowledge of the internet and whatever a meme is, he admits that he picked up a few choice phrases from Gabriel.

“Ah, so that’s where some technologically-inept kid from Chicago learns a saying like ‘challenge accepted’”.

“You got a problem with Chicago, Dean?” Cas chided him.

“I got a problem with the Cubs,” Dean smiled.

“I also don’t know anything about sports,” Cas conceded. He laughed at Dean’s over dramatic gasp and the falsely scandalous look on his face. Dean softened up and clapped him on the shoulder as they reached the entrance to Cas’s residence. He leaned against the brick wall beside the frame of the main door, looking at Cas warmly.

“All you gotta know about sports Cas, is that baseball is the greatest game ever played. You understand?” Cas smiled.

“I understand.” Dean’s grin widened at that and Cas’s heart fluttered in return. “How’s your hand?” he asks as a distraction. Dean looks down at his fingers still wrapped in the wash cloth and duct tape.

“I’ll be fine,” he shrugged. “My ego hurts more than my hand anyways.” Dean teased. “I just can’t believe I let some eighteen year old freshmen who doesn’t know the first thing about baseball drink me under the table.”

“You didn’t let me do anything. I won that fair and square.” Dean chuckled at Cas’s statement. “Oh, and I’m not eighteen.” Cas looked back up at him. Dean stopped for a moment, his mouth opening and closing.

“You’re... not...” Dean fumbled, looking puzzled. “Huh?”

“Well,” Cas started. “My birthday is in November so technically I’m still seventeen until then. That’s how birthdays work,” he joked.

Dean huffed an awkward laugh, breaking eye contact with Cas and looking around searchingly. “Alright, well,” he coughed. “It was uhh, nice meeting you then, Castiel.” He stood up straighter and stuck his hand out for Cas to shake which he did cautiously and with much confusion. “Goodnight,” he finished stiffly, turning around and stepping down the stairs.

As Dean walked quickly down the path onto the street, Castiel was left standing at the entrance to his dorm in utter confusion at the most uncomfortably puzzling encounter he’d ever been in.


	2. McCord

Frank Wills hummed to himself while listening to his iPod. It was well after midnight in the College Centre, and Frank had no fear of someone overhearing his indulgence in ABBA. Only an overpriced liberal arts school like Bernstein College would think it necessary to have an overnight security guard with nothing to guard. Everything was locked, he had to swipe his card at every doorway. Sure, Frank thought, it’s a Thursday during the first week back after the winter break, so you never know what mess a student could get into.

Frank walked out of the silent cafeteria into the darkly lit Atrium, strolling past the rows of vending machines and cork boards advertising Frost Week activities. The Atrium was a large oval room and was lined on all sides leading into various clubs and activity rooms, everything from religious groups to Engineers Without Borders, women’s rights activism to environmental protection. Several were political parties, whether national parties or one of the few college ones. Many of the rooms were named after rich alumni that apparently had no better place to put their money than back into the same institution that took tens of thousands of dollars from them decades before. Frank walked through the center of the room, weaving in between worn out couches in the school colours and freestanding announcement boards to reach the double doors on the opposite end. He swiped his card, only to have a small yellow light flash at him, declaring that the door was already open. Frank frowned and pulled on the handle, bending down to squint in the dark light. He felt the side of the door to find several strips of duct tape holding the latch in. Peeling the tape off, Frank stood up and looked around. The Atrium was still dark, only lit from above by the three skylights on the slanted roof. It was an overcast night, but the residual light from the city leaked in, leaving the room dimly lit and with strange shadows. Unable to see anything due to the announcement boards, Frank shrugged and balled up the tape, tossing it into the garbage bin, allowing the door to swing shut with a loud, echoing bang. He continued on his round assuming that the tape was due to some student leaving the door open for his friends who forgot their student cards. Frank rolled his eyes at the laziness of college students, turning on his music to shake off the feeling that there was something else in the Atrium.

Having completed yet another lap of the building, Frank swiped into a room marked Security Personnel Only which was nothing more than a closet with a scattering of miss-matched  hooks, milk crates stacked on their sides with a collection of black shoes, and most importantly, a single outlet for a coffee maker to be plugged into. Frank let out a satisfied sigh seeing that it had only just finished brewing, and poured himself a large black mug of coffee. He leaned against the door enjoying a quick break. The one benefit about this shift that there was no one to tell him when his breaks should be taken. Who was to stop him from having a coffee now, or listen to his music while patrolling? Once he had finished his coffee Frank checked his watch to see it was nearing two am. He sighed and decided to do another round.

By the time Frank reached the far side of the Atrium again it was coming up on 2:30. This time he was certain he heard the shuffle of feet across laminate flooring. Once again, the card receptor flashed yellow, indicating the door was still open. And once again, there as tape holding the latch open. This time Frank turned around, taking out his flashlight and swinging it across the floor, walking around the perimeter of the room. Of course it couldn’t be a nice quiet night. Frank passed the doors to the Trivia Club, Model UN, Young Marxists of America, Cheese Club, (Cheese Club? Really?) and several athletic associations and started to wonder if there was anything in the Atrium at all. You’re going loopy, old man, Frank thought You probably just didn’t get all the tape off last time. High time you had another coffee, or retired. Forgetting things is the first sign of aging, right? Just as Frank was considering turning back and ignoring it all, he heard a shuffle behind the door to the Skye Room, which was the current office for the Student Reform Party. Quiet voices could clearly be heard on the other side of the paper thin walls.

“I think I hear the security guard,”

“Fuck.”

“Hide the shit!”

Frank rolled his eyes. Teenagers. Idiots, the lot of ‘em

Frank knocked on the door with his flashlight, silencing the voices inside.

“Okay, you and I both know that this area is closed to students past 11pm. Out you come, I’m calling more of Campus Security, and I’m writing the lot of you up.”

He heard a few more shuffles before the door opened for Frank to see a boy with blonde curls that tumbled past his ears standing frightfully in the door frame. Behind him several more students crowded around all wearing a similar expression of fear on their face. They walked out of the dim room into the large Atrium, their heads bowed exchanging glances of worry. Frank peered into the room behind them seeing beer bottles scattered around the place. But that’s not what caught his attention. Upon further inspection he found drawers had been busted open and cupboard doors were swinging on their hinges. But it was the recording equipment strewn all over the desk, plugged into the telephone and computer in the room that really alerted him to something more sinister going on. This wasn’t a bunch of students looking for a secluded place to drink, this was a purposeful break in; a burglary. He turned back to the young students and shaking his head and their concerned faces, made a call on his radio.

“Barry come quick, there’s something you’ll need to see.”

~

Blueberry chocolate muffins were Cas’s favourite, and the small bakery in the northwest corner of campus made the best ones. They’re never too mushy or too crispy and they always have just the right amount of balance of chocolate and blueberry. Cas got there early every Monday morning because even though they’re always great, Tessa makes them the best.

Cas learned after a couple months of coming to the bakery that the muffins he bought on a Thursday night or a Saturday afternoon were never as good as the ones he bought on Mondays. A few weeks later he found out why. Tessa, like her muffins, was a little rough around the edges but had undoubtedly one of the warmest hearts and sweetest natures of anyone that Cas had ever met. Unfortunately, she only works at the bakery on Mondays, so even though Cas would much rather sleep in on the one day he doesn’t have class before 11:30, Tessa’s muffins are worth it.

He was in the lineup to get one of the muffins now, second in line unfortunately, due to sleeping through his alarm after a particularly long night of editing a story for today’s issue. A small ring emitted from his pocket and he dug the phone out of the deep pocket on his thick winter jacket, pulling off his gloves to hit ‘answer’.

“Hello Charlie,” He said happily.

“Hey kiddo, I’ve got a story for you but you need to be there in five minutes or you’ll lose it.” She wasted no time in stopping to ask him if he was on board or not and continued talking. “There was a break in last night in one of the rooms in the Atrium. They must have done some pretty bad stuff because the kids got sent to the hearing room this morning and they’re probably getting kicked out of school. I know it’s probably nothing and seems kind of boring but get your ass there anyways and see if there’s a story.”

After one last longing glance at the muffins sitting on the warming tray, Cas turned away from his spot in the line and replied half-heartedly “Yeah Charlie, no problem. I’ll be there.”

“Wow, don’t sound so excited about it, you might break something…”

“Sorry, I just had a long night. I’ll speak with you later about what I uncover with this story.”

“See ya kid.”

“Goodbye Charlie.”

He pressed the end call button on his phone and hoisted his backpack higher on his shoulders and made his way to the Hearing Room two couple blocks away. It’s a good thing it was reasonably close to the bakery, he didn’t feel like running this morning. Halfway there he realized that Charlie had never mentioned which room was broken into and he fired off a quick message asking her. He received a text moments later that made him stop in his tracks.

The Skye Room. SRP HQ.

____________________

Charlie had said that the story was probably nothing and Cas knew that Charlie was usually right about these things so there was no real need for him to be freaking out and yet here he was, kind of freaking out. If there was one thing he had learned about this college, it was that everyone takes the Student President elections very, very seriously.

Cas had never followed politics before coming to Bernstein College, and he while he didn’t care much for the real presidential elections, at school it’s hard not to keep up to date with the goings-on of their own little political scene. From what he could tell, it basically worked the same way that federal politics do. There are two parties; The Student Reform Party (SRP), everyone calls them the Blue Party; and the Conservative Realist Electoral Party (CREP), who everyone calls the CREEPs.

The SRP has held the office for over ten years now, except for last year, when Nick Richardson was elected. Nothing has made the SRP more angry in the entire history of their party. The election campaigns no longer lasted mere weeks or even a few months. Each party campaigned in full force from the moment school started right up until the day of the election in April. The entire school had suffered through four months of the SRP’s whining about the rules being unfair. The moment they found out that their main headquarters had been broken into and trashed, there was going to be hell to pay.

Which was why Cas, who was now sitting near the back of the small Hearing Room on campus knew that despite her track record, Charlie was wrong. This story was going to be a shit-storm.

The doors at the front of the room opened slowly and a middle-aged man in a tailored, expensive suit led five young students through the door to stand at the front of the room, waiting on a representative of the Student Admissions and Expulsions Board who was acting as judge to arrive. They did not wait long and a couple minutes later everyone was seated and ready to begin. Just as the hearing was called to order, the two people in the row behind Castiel began whispering about the proceedings.

“Well that’s strange,” A young woman’s voice piped up from Cas’s left.

“What is?” A man’s voice asked this time, a little closer to him.

“That they went all the way to hire an actual lawyer instead of just accepting the charges and being done with it,” the woman replied.

Castiel didn’t like eavesdropping as a rule, but they weren’t exactly making an effort to keep their voices low and they were sitting close enough to Cas that he didn’t have to strain to hear what they were saying. Besides, it might be worth it to break that rule if they kept giving him interesting enough information. Being a journalist had skewed Cas’s moral compass slightly. In the past four months he had noticed that he was willing to do certain things to get a story that he would never have dreamed of before. Though he had lied to Charlie about knowing lots about journalism, he was actually taking to it quickly.

The student’s conversation behind him quickly petered off into a debate about who was going to win this season of Big Brother, or something equally as trivial and Cas turned his attention back to the the people at the front of the room. The girl was right, the man that had led them in was in fact a professional lawyer that they had apparently hired and was now making a case for them. Part way through the man’s speech about how they were Good Kids who deserved a second chance, the judge put up his hand for the man to stop.

“I would like to speak to the students directly and ask them a few questions now.” The lawyer nodded and stepped back to his seat. “You there.” The judge pointed to one of the boys in the group. He was a couple years older than Cas at the most and his blonde hair fell in front of his eyes in loose curls. “What’s your name?”

“James W. McCord Jr.” Cas made a note of it on his paper.

“You are taking a Master’s degree at this school, yes?” the judge asked.

“Yes sir.” Underneath his name Cas wrote ‘Masters student’.

“And what kind of work do you do around campus?”

McCord paused for a moment before answering. “I recently quit my job as a personal campus security consultant for a school organization.”

“Which organization was that?”

McCord mumbled something incomprehensible and was asked by the judge to repeat it. Cas leaned forward and strained his ears to hear the quiet, mumbled reply.

“CREEP.”

The people behind him stop talking abruptly, the girl even let out a small gasp. Cas leaned back in his chair, trying to process what the student had just said. He was usually a relatively eloquent speaker, but as the realization hit him only two words came to mind and he whispered them to the empty bench in front of him.

“Holy shit.”

~

 

Before leaving the makeshift courtroom, Cas had discovered the following information: the five students had been dressed in their ‘Frost Week’ t-shirts and three had their faces painted to Bernstein College’s colours. Campus Security had seized a burn phone, a digital camera, lock picks, and a number of small bugging devices. Most of the students had cash on them in $50 bills.

Castiel now sat at his desk with his chin in his hands, trying to come up with a way to present the information without making it seem accusatory or biased. The last thing he wanted to do was start a riot between the already strongly opposed groups. A bag of all-dressed chips that dropped onto his desk pulled him out of his concentration.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said brightly, sliding up to sit on an empty corner of Cas’s desk.

“Hello Dean,” he replied more as a question than a statement. He looked down at the bag of chips. All-dressed was his favourite. “Are those for... me?”

Dean huffed a laugh. Cas really liked Dean’s laugh.

“Yeah, you looked pretty stressed out over here so I figured I’d bring you something to cheer you up.”

“Thank you, Dean,” he said warmly, picking up the bag of chips and offering one to him before taking any himself. Not that he deserved it... For the past four months, Dean had blatantly ignored Castiel at almost every turn, for no apparent reason. Apart from their brief encounter at that party during frosh, and a handful of times over first semester including a few words and a slap on the shoulder on his birthday, Dean had avoided Cas at all costs.

Perhaps the bag of chips was Dean’s way of making peace. Afterall, it was a new year and many people like to turn over a new leaf and start fresh. If this was Dean’s way of doing that, then he would gladly take it.

“So, whatcha workin’ on anyways?” Dean asked, peering over Castiel’s notes. Cas turned the notes towards him.

“It’s a story that Charlie asked me to cover this morning. Five students broke into the Skye Room last night-” he paused for Dean’s ‘yikes’ “-and they were brought in this morning so the expulsion board could hear their side of the story.”

“Alright, so apart from the obvious fact that the Blue Party is going to flip it’s shit when they find out, what’s the problem?” Dean asked.

“On the surface it seems like a fairly generic case, but the details of the whole encounter are incredibly... well for lack of a better word, weird.”

Upon Dean’s insistence, Cas explained about the professional lawyer they had hired, and as a result of it they were not given any punishment for what they did. He told him about the recording equipment and camera found with them in the room. Dean jumped in only when Cas confided that one of the students had admitted to working as a security consultant for CREEP.

“Hold up, who is this guy?” Dean frowned.

Cas flipped his notebook back a few pages to find where he had jotted down the name. “James W. McCord Jr.” Dean laughed. “What?”

“Everyone knows that guy. He insists on calling himself by his full name, so of course everyone just calls him ‘Junior’. You’re telling me he’s one of the students that broke in?”

Cas nodded. “In fact, he appears to be the pseudo-leader of the group.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the bustling of the news room around them. A number of their co-workers were packing up their things to go to lunch. Charlie wasn’t around today but Benny was overseeing things in her place. Dean stood up abruptly and reached into the chip bag to grab four or five out and shoved them unceremoniously into his mouth. He walked briskly back to his desk and began unplugging his laptop, leaving Castiel at his desk extremely confused. After gathering a few things, like a notepad from his drawer and a pen off the top of his desk, Dean stalked back to Castiel dragging his desk chair behind him and setting it directly opposite the younger boy. He then shoved a number of Cas’s papers out of the way to make room for his laptop which he tossed onto the table and threw himself into the chair behind it.

“Well, let’s dig up some dirt on this son of a bitch,” he said grinning ear to ear, oblivious to Cas’s confusion.

“I... I’m not sure where to start,” Cas confessed. “I haven’t had a whole lot of stories that needed in-depth researching yet.”

Dean clicked and tapped away at his computer for a few moments before answering. “Well let’s start with gathering some basic information first. It’s not too hard nowadays, just Google his name. The guy’s probably signed up with at least five different social networking accounts.”

Cas typed ‘James W. McCord Jr.” into the search bar. The first thing to come up was a link to his Facebook account. Cas groaned.

“What is it?” Dean’s brow furrowed.

“Facebook is haunting me...” he mumbled. Dean snorted and came around the desk to look over Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel’s Facebook account had become something of an inside joke in the office in the last few months. Sometime in late September the team had discovered that Castiel didn’t possess a Facebook account and were for some reason appalled. The result was an hour spent trying to convince Cas to make an account and when he refused, the following two hours were dedicated to making one for him. The account was mainly passed through the hands of Becky and Jo, and apparently on occasion, Charlie. The thing was, they added practically everyone that attended the college as a friend. Not just the people in his year or in his class. They added everyone. As it currently sat, Castiel Woodward had 21,364 friends on Facebook. Charlie had to install some sort of coding to even get the website to let him have that many friends.

Castiel went on it once to discover that not only did his friends post things in the ‘status bar’ that were horrendously out of character, but that he got messages almost daily from people that he had never met. Most messages were just to tell him what a cool guy he was. Some people asked for homework advice. A few messages contained detailed sexual acts that they wanted done to them by Castiel. It wasn’t likely that he would be taking any of them up on their offers. He hadn’t gone on since.

People came up to him in the hallways often though. And one time when he borrowed a pen from a guy next to him in English Lit, the guy winked and said ‘no problem, Castiel’. The student mispronounced his name, but Cas was far too confused to correct him. The Facebook account is the spawn of the devil and undoubtedly the worst thing that ever happened to him. He told Dean as much.

“Aww, c’mon man it’s not that bad. Besides, now it’s about to help you dig up some dirt on this bastard.” Dean tipped the laptop towards him and he typed ‘facebook.com’ into the search bar. He paused when the Log In screen came up.

“You’re not signed in?”

“Obviously.”

“Do you even know what the password is?”

“... no.” Cas squinted.

“Becky!” Dean shouted to her across the room. “What’s Cas’s Facebook password?”

Becky looked around embarrassed for a moment before hissing to them across the room, “bbgcasfan97.” She paused at their bemused expressions and then added, “It’s all one word.”

Dean nodded an awkward thank you to Becky before leaning down to type in the password. The page loaded to Cas’s account as Dean turned toward Castiel and said in a low whisper, “there are a number of things that I could’ve gone through life without hearing and that is definitely at the top of the list.” Cas shared his sentiment.

After that small hiccup, they actually managed to get a decent amount of research on McCord done. They found out he was a devoted member of CREEP and Campus Security. That he loved The West Wing which Cas learned was a TV show and a band called ‘Vampire Weekend’ which Dean assured him were hipster douchebags, and not worth listening to. They were eventually sent home by Charlie and told to ‘do some homework or watch some porn. I don’t care’.

Cas came into the office decently early the next morning but not before stopping by the bakery to pick up a muffin and dearly missed the way that Tessa made them. After sitting down at his desk and taking his time with the pastry, he pulled up McCord’s Facebook account again. He’d had the idea last night to look up the other students involved in the break in and try and connect a few dots.

As they had previously discovered yesterday, McCord had ‘liked’ the CREEP Facebook page because apparently he was not majoring in subtlety. Upon further investigation he discovered that the other four burglars were also members of the CREEP group. Apart from that group, however, the five students seemed to have almost nothing in common. Two of them were invited to the same party once. Three liked Game of Thrones, but that was unsurprising due to it’s popularity, or so Castiel had been told. Four of them were in the Office of Community Affairs group - no wait. Five. And they were all friends with the Admin of the group, a Masters student named Uriel Hunt.

He was going through Uriel’s page when a hand came down on his shoulder.

“Cas man, don’t you know if you stare too long at the screen your eyes will turn square?” Dean said with false concern. Cas rolled his eyes.

“You sound like my grandmother.”

“I bet I’m cuter.” Dean winked before dragged his chair from yesterday around to Castiel’s side of the desk. Cas scooted his chair over to make room for him and pulled his collar up, trying to cover up the light blush slowly creeping up his neck. “So who’s at the mercy of Cas Woodward’s death glare today?” Dean asked, peering at the screen. “Uriel Hunt. Oh I know him. I interviewed him for a story one time. I’ve got his cell number, but you should try Community Affairs first, he should be there.”

“Thanks Dean.” Cas said gratefully as Dean wrote Hunt’s number on an empty sticky note sitting on Castiel’s desk.

“Any time, man.” he said smiling before walking back to his desk. Cas dragged his eyes away from the light haired boy just as he sat down. Focus was essential in journalism and recently Cas had been bombarded with too many... distractions.

Cas dialed in the number of the Community Affairs office on the ancient phone that sat on his desk that was to be used for work purposes only. Like anyone in the office would ever use them for anything else. The old phones came in a range of colours from beige to darker beige and were made before cordless technology was invented. They were just another indicator of how dire the funding situation was for the newspaper. Charlie had asked just before the winter break if it was possible to get a few hundred dollars to buy some new equipment, but the presidential office in charge of distributing funds had once again declined. The refusal caused another ‘We Hate Nick Richardson’ party to be held in the office after hours one late Saturday night. What the paper really needed was a large donation from an outside source. Someone with an interest in the journalism department and enough money to fund it. Cas’s family of course had more than enough money, it was the interest in any part of his life that was lacking.

The tell tale tone of someone picking up on the other end snapped Cas back from musings.

“Luke Colson at Community Affairs Department speaking, how can I help you?” said the monotonous voice.

“Yes hello, I am looking for Uriel Hunt, is he in today?” Cas said quickly. The man on the phone paused for a moment.

“Who’s asking?” he said, more interested now.

“Umm, my name is Castiel Woodward I’m from the BC Post. I need-”

“Mr. Hunt isn’t here at the moment,” Colson said, cutting him off, “have a nice day.”

“Do you know when he-” was all Castiel could get in before the line went dead. Well that was strange, he didn’t even get a chance to ask any questions. Since the man, Colson, was obviously lying, he tried Hunt’s cell next. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” his voice was a lot smoother than Colson’s rough growl.

“Hello yes, is this Uriel Hunt?” asked Cas.

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is Castiel Woodward for the BC Post. I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding whether you are acquainted with a man named James W. McCord.” There was silence on the other end.

“My god,” he finally spoke, “are you really investigating this?”

“Y-yes...” Cas stammered out uncertainly. He was expecting it more this time, but it still came as a shock when the line abruptly went dead. Cas sat with the receiver in his hand growing more and more frustrated as a female voice told him on the old phone to please hang up and try your call again.

He made a quick note of everything that had been said to him so far before calling one last time at the Community Affairs office. He dialed the number and prayed that anyone but Colson would pick up. By some miracle, his prayers were answered.

“Hello, Community Affairs office.” a soft female voice echoed out of the receiver.

“My name is Castiel Woodward from the BC Post and I need to speak with Uriel Hunt.” he said a little more forcefully than necessary.

“Oh I’m..” she paused and he heard muffled talking in the background. “What is this about?”

“I was wondering what Mr. Hunt’s duties at this office and with CREEP are.” he said assertively. It was a good minute before she answered and Cas only stayed on the line because he could still hear whispered voices on the other end, letting him know that someone was still there. When the woman finally came back on the line, her voice had a tone of someone who was reciting a well-rehearsed speech.

“I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson, Mr. Hunt nor anyone at the BCSA had any involvement in the deplorable incident in the Skye Room.” she said with much confidence. “Good day, sir.” And for the third time in a span of ten minutes Castiel was rudely and abruptly hung up on.

Cas slammed the receiver down onto the stand and dropped his head into his hands. This story is going to kill me he thought, rubbing at his temples.

“Cas!” Cas looked up. Charlie was standing in the doorway of her office beckoning him, “Come here.” He obliged, standing up and sulking over to her. She led him into the small room and shut the door. “What’s up buddy, you look stressed.” she hopped up on the corner of her desk, pushing her antique yellow desk lamp out of the way and looked at him, sympathy clouding her expression.

“It’s just this story seems to be getting a little out of hand.” he sighed.

“Alright, well tell me about it and we’ll try and work through a few things. Deep breaths kiddo.”

Cas smiled tightly and slowed his breathing to calm down. His eyes found the mustard lamp balanced precariously on the corner of her desk. He was right in his initial assumption about the lamps. It was an initiation process. He had been there when they had presented Becky with hers; a bright pink modern lamp that was more of a bedroom light than one for your desk, but fit perfectly with the rest of Becky’s cozy decor. Cas set Charlie’s own lamp to a more stable position before answering.

“Everyone I have called so far to get an interview about this story has hung up on me a minute later.” Charlie’s composure held for mere seconds before she burst out laughing. Cas rolled his eyes and grumbled quietly.

“I’m sorry dude,” she said through her laughter, “but what the hell are you asking these people?”

“I’m-” he paused. The expression on his face must have changed dramatically because Charlie stopped laughing suddenly.

“What is it?” she asked seriously.

“Oh my gosh,” he said, realization slowly dawning on him. “Oh my gosh, how did I miss that?” Cas threw open the door and jogged back to his desk, his heart pumping loudly in his chest as he flipped through his note book trying to find the exact wording of his conversations.

“Miss what?!” Charlie exclaimed from behind him. She had followed him to his desk after his outburst, as had a number of other people as he now had a small audience waiting on his every word, Dean being one of them. He looked at Charlie and breathed heavily, trying to find the exact words that would express the importance of the situation.

“It’s the statement that the Community Affairs office gave me.” he started, and handed Charlie his notebook for her to read it out.

“I am convinced that neither Mr. Colson, Mr. Hunt nor anyone at the BCSA had any involvement in the deplorable incident in the Skye Room.” she monotonously read back to him. “What’s weird about that, Cas? It sounds like a pretty basic but obviously false denial to me.”

“I know,” he laughed breathlessly, earning an even more confused look from his supervisor, “but I never asked about the break-in at the Skye Room. I only asked what Uriel Hunt’s duties were at CREEP.”

Charlie looked back down at the notebook and then up again. Her mouth opened and closed as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t think of what. Cas couldn’t blame her, this story that was supposed to be a random act of violence was starting to spiral out of control.

“But why...”

“Would they jump to conclusions like that?” he interjected, meeting her eyes knowingly. “They’re hiding something.”

“Okay kid,” she finally spoke, “you find out what they know and what they’re not telling us, or I’ll find out your dirtiest secrets and print them on the front page of this paper.”

Cas thought about laughing, but he honestly wouldn’t put it past Charlie to do something so drastic if he lost the story. And if the angry expression slowly boiling on her face was any indication, he really didn’t want to test that theory. Dean apparently thought her threat was a little much.

“Aww lay off Charlie, it still might be nothing.” he said.

“Watch it Winchester, there isn’t much research I’d have to do to get dirt on you. And don’t think I wont do the same if you guys don’t get to the bottom of this.”

Cas looked at her puzzled, Dean’s face mirroring the same expression.

“What, what?” Dean offered.

“I’m putting you both on this story.” Charlie stated. “Whatever they’re hiding, we’re gonna blow it wide open.”

Charlie stormed back to her office, clearly angry about whatever was being covered up in the school that she loved so dearly. The rest of the crowd dispersed with her, leaving Dean at Cas’s desk and the two of them simply looking at each other, waiting for the other to say anything.

“Well,” Dean spoke finally, “looks like we’ve got a story to write.”


	3. Deepthroat

The next few days found Dean and Castiel working side by side on every angle of the story that they had so far. A few more phone calls took them to the library, where they had been told that Uriel Hunt spent a surprising amount of time and checked out an above average amount of books. Mainly from the local history and politics section. Though from the time they made the appointment with the librarian and the time they arrived, it seemed that someone had been tipped off about their arrival and instead of being easily handed a list of Uriel’s library history, they were thrown out with a cold shoulder. Fortunately, and with a little illegal ingenuity, they did get a record of all of the books he looked at but the lead turned up cold.

So instead they spent hours writing and crafting the information that they did have. Cas found that Dean, much like his brother Gabriel, had a taste for sweet and savoury treats. He would show up to their ‘hangouts’ with bags of chips and smarties and always ended up sharing half of it with Castiel. Cas had tried to not put too much thought to him but it was proving more difficult than he had hoped. There was the obvious and unavoidable attraction that he felt towards the man, but due to the enormous amount of mixed signals he’d received in the short time of knowing him, Cas wasn’t sure if it was just a physical attraction. Sure at the beginning of first semester Dean had been very nice and friendly towards him, and it seemed that that attitude was making a comeback, but he couldn’t ignore the four months in between of complete coldness he felt from him. It was unexplainable, and Cas wasn’t sure that he wanted to make friends with someone so unpredictable, let alone be something more. Not that he was considering it. Ever.

Within the week, they had a two page spread on what they had coined as the ‘Skye Room Scandal’. It detailed everything from the initial break in, to the personalities of the five parties, but especially that there was evidence of something more at work. They showed it to Charlie on Saturday afternoon, and after a few minor cuts and edits, she approved the story to be printed in the paper on Monday morning.

“So I know it’s pretty late,” Dean said, “but I could totally go for a burger right now. There’s this great place a couple blocks from campus called the Roadhouse and apparently they do awesome burgers, do you wanna check it out?”

Cas considered his proposal for a moment. It was quite late already, but Cas could never really turn down a burger. It was a short walk to the restaurant and when they arrived they found a booth in the left corner of the restaurant and ordered sodas and cheeseburgers.

“So,” Dean began after swallowing a large bite of his burger that the waitress had delivered to them just moments ago, “Charlie’s getting pretty hyped up on this story, huh?”

Cas agreed. “She does seem to be focusing on it quite a bit. She is right though, we do need more evidence before we make any more assumptions about CREEP’s involvement.”

“I’m telling you, Cas. There’s no way these bastards aren’t involved. Benny and I did a story on Richardson’s election last year and that is one creepy son of a bitch. I wouldn’t put it past him and his minions to be behind this whole thing.” he said, taking another massive bite of the burger. “Jesus, these are so good.” Cas nodded in agreement. “So how are you liking being on the paper?” Dean asked.

“Umm, it’s good.” Cas said hesitantly, “Still getting into the swing of things I suppose.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re crazy dude, you’ve got so much natural talent at this it doesn’t even matter that you’re a rookie.”

Cas smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, Dean but I’m not sure that everyone shares your sentiment.” he said quietly, picking at his cheeseburger.

“Cas what are you talking about? Everyone loves you. Charlie thinks you’re great and sure Becky’s a little weird but you’re easily her favourite newsie. Who do you think doesn’t like you?”

Cas set his burger down and looked hard at Dean. “Benny.” Dean set his food down too, looking uncharacteristically apologetic.

“Look, Benny is... Benny’s like that. He’s not used to change and he gives new things and new people a hard time before he gets to know them. It’s not personal Cas, there’s no way someone couldn’t like you.” he finished with a grin. Cas rolled his eyes, hiding his happiness at Dean’s words and picked up his cheeseburger once again. They ate peacefully in silence for some time until they finished their food and left. The gave their compliments to the bar manager and headed out into the breezy night.

Dean walked Cas back to his dorm. It was a good night.

~

Tuesday morning was anything but good. Cas had run into Dean on the way to the office and they walked together the rest of the way. Not a moment after they had stepped in the door, Charlie grabbed both of them by their collars and hauled them into her office.

“You boys are going to get me into so much goddamn trouble.” she growled, slamming the latest issue of the BC Sun - their rival paper - down on the table in front of them. On the front page was a large pixely photo of Charlie looking sternly at a blurry Dean and Cas with a large headline overlaying the photo that said in obnoxious letters ‘THE POST HATES DEMOCRACY’ and before Cas could figure out how they could have possibly got the picture what the title had to do with the picture or what any of it had to do with anything, Charlie was yelling in his ear.

“They’re denying it, they’re all denying everything. They’re not even admitting that the four partiers except McCord were ever apart of CREEP. They’re saying that we have no proof and that we’ve got in in for Richardson and will say anything to get him kicked out.”

“Well of course they are, Charlie, we knew they were going to-”

“You shut it Winchester.” she said forcefully, shoving a finger at him. “If I get fired for this, it’s on you it’s on-”

“Charlie.” Cas cut in sternly. She stopped talking abruptly and looked at him. “Let’s just all... calm down.” he said slightly uncertainly, looking to Dean for guidance who just shrugged and nodded. “They’re not going to fire you, alright? Last month Bela did a story on how to commit credit card fraud and the school let you get away with that.”

Charlie breathed deeply and sat down at her chair. “You’ve got a good point Woodward. That was a pretty crazy story for me to let Bela run.” Cas ignored the fact that Charlie was kind of missing his point and continued.

“Look, they can deny the story for as long as they want, but eventually the truth is going to come out. But you’ve got to let Dean and I continue with it until we find enough proof.”

Charlie stewed in contemplation for a moment, looking from nervously Dean to Cas. “Fine.” she finally said. Dean did a small fist pump beside him. “But I’m not letting either of you post a single word until you have cold hard evidence.”

“Charlie! That’s not fair, you know if we don’t remind the students about this shit they’ll forget about it and no one will care about it anymore.”

“Then you better get some fucking evidence Winchester because goddamn it I will not let you make a mockery of this paper.” she stood back up again, her initial anger returning. “I’ll let you run a short piece each week giving an update on the Skye Room break in but that’s it until you give me something concrete.”

“Thank you Charlie.” Cas smiled tightly.

“Now get your pretty faces out of my office.” she said shooing them away. Dean grabbed the newspaper off her desk on their way out. They took it to Cas’s desk where they seemed to work together more often than Dean’s and sat down to read the article that the Sun had posted. Well, Cas was sitting and Dean was peering over his shoulder disdainfully. Apparently they were arguing that everything the Post had written was not true and that they inherently hated Richardson because they could not separate partisanship with informing the public. This also somehow meant that they hated democracy and all democratically elected people in power as well.

“Well that’s the worst piece of journalism I’ve ever read in my life.” Dean said. “I need a drink. Cas do you want a drink?” before Cas could answer Dean yelled to the office “Does anyone want to get a drink with me?!”

A chorus of wooh’s and yes’s echoed throughout the room. Chuck unearthed a bottle of whiskey from a locked drawer in his desk, and Bela made a similar move with what appeared to be a rather large but mostly empty bottle of moonshine. Like most times when alcohol was brought out at the office, the day quickly turned into another famous ‘We Hate Nick Richardson’ party. Cas took some shots from Dean’s bottle of Jack Daniels that had been offered to him, and once again easily out-drank the older boy.

~

Cas and Dean continued to follow the story over the next few weeks, though not much seemed to be going in their favour. Any leads they had were running dry, and the continued hits from the BC Sun ensured that no one new was going to talk to them about the scandal. Charlie still continued to give them other things to work on, but in comparison to the story they were sitting on, nothing seemed to interest them.

They spent a lot of time at the Roadhouse too. Sometimes talking about the story and sometimes not. Sometimes others would join them, often Jo or Charlie, but Cas prefered when it was just him and Dean. It became ‘their place’. Where they would each get a burger and split a basket of fries. Cas listened to whatever movie Dean was excited about this week, and one rainy Friday afternoon was even convinced to go see the latest summer blockbuster with him. Dean was increasingly interested in Cas’s American Literature and had some fascinating ideas to contribute to his essay on Cold War themes. They talked about their families a bit, a topic which Cas was torn between steering away from on his end, and loving to hear about Dean’s little brother Sam. The boy was clearly Dean’s whole world, and it made Cas wish that he had a better relationship with his family so that he too would have something nice to say.

January turned into February and the weather, along with their story, stayed much the same. Until one night Cas heard a banging on his dorm room door. Still delirious from sleep, he scrambled for the wooden baseball bat he kept under his bed and CREEPt to the door, flinging it open to reveal an out of breath and haggard looking Dean.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you have a bat?”they said simultaneously. Cas rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Dean it is 3:30 AM on a Thursday and I have a midterm tomorrow. Tell me why you are here or leave me alone.” Cas said, hiding no amount of frustration in his voice.

“Cas I got a lead!” he exclaimed, shaking his hands in front of Cas’s face like a deranged conspiracy theorist. Cas got a in a few more seconds of looking utterly unimpressed with life before deciding that Dean was not going to leave any time soon and turned tail back into his room to put on a pot of coffee.

“Come in, sit down and in five minutes or less tell me what the lead is.” he said, turning back to Dean.

“Jeez Cas,” Dean grinned, following him into the small room, “you’re beginning to sound more and more like Charlie every day.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Cas yawned. “Would you like some coffee?” Dean nodded in affirmation. He tentatively sat down on the corner of Cas’s small bed, looking around the room interestedly.

“No roommate?” he questioned.

“Parents wouldn’t let me.” Cas responded awkwardly. Dean’s expression hardened, he’d heard comments like this a few times now.

“These parents of yours sound like-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dean.” Cas said with a note of finality that once again ended a conversation that Dean was still dying to have. “What is the lead?”

“Are you going to tell me why you have a bat?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“My brother bought it for me so that I could fight off intruders, are you happy now? Can you tell me what was so urgent that you had to break into my room at 3am?”

“What kind of intruders...”

“Damnit Dean, don’t make me beg.”

“Why, are you into that sort of thing?”

“Dean.”

“Okay Cas, okay.” he held up his hands defensively. “It’s not a whole lot right now, but it’s something. You know Ash who works at the Roadhouse?” Cas nodded. “He’s in accounting and does a lot of work for both CREEP and the SRP. He told me that the amount of funding that comes into the CREEP office never adds up right to the amount when it comes back out.”

Cas busied himself with making the coffee while he listened to Dean. “What exactly does he mean by that? I have met Ash, and I know he is a good friend but he’s not necessarily the most reliable source.”

“I know Cas, I know. But right now all I need is for you to believe him. For you to believe me.” As Cas handed Dean a warm mug of black coffee, their fingers brushed if only for a second.

“I do believe you. I trust you, Dean.” Dean sheepishly smiled at Cas’s remark and took the mug from him gratefully.

“Ash also told me, and this he knows for sure, that one of the partiers that was caught in the Skye Room was given a cheque signed by CREEP for $2500 dollars.”

Cas nearly dropped his mug. “But none of the partiers were in paying-”

“-positions for CREEP, I know. Which is only the first reason why it’s suspicious. The next reason of course being-”

“-if it’s confirmed to have happened at least once, has it happened before?”

“Exactly.” Dean sighed, glad that they were on the same page. Writing this story sometimes felt like a double edged sword. By all logic, the more leads they found and the closer they got to the truth should have made them happier, but sometimes it felt like the exact opposite. Perhaps if it was another school’s reputation that they were tarnishing it would have hurt much less. But it wasn’t another school, it was theirs. Dean had much more right to feel bad about this than him, owing to the fact that Dean had already spent a year here and was planning on coming back the following semester. He was building a life at this school and in this city.

For Cas it was simply a halfway point from one terrible destination to another. It was an oasis in the middle of a barren desert and so he could not reconcile the feeling inside himself that he was slowly destroying a place that had welcomed him with open arms, even for such a short time.

“Jesus Cas, the students have got to start caring about this crap. This is their money on the line that’s being thrown around this corrupt student government, they’ve got to start caring.” Cas wasn’t fond of physical contact or discussing feelings, but Dean looked so incredibly defeated that he reached over and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder, forcing Dean’s gaze to flick back to him.

“They will care, Dean. But we have to make them care. And to do that we need a lot more proof than we have right now.” he reassured him. Dean flashed him a quick smile that made his heart flutter slightly.

“I know Cas. Thanks, for y’know, the coffee and letting me wake you up at ungodly hours of the night n’ stuff.” he said, handing his now empty mug back to Cas.

“Any time, Dean.”

“Really?” he asked hopefully.

“No. If you ever wake me up at 3AM again you will learn how good I am with a baseball bat.” he replied matter-of-factly and leading Dean to the door. The older boy laughed heartedly, now standing outside Cas’s room.

“Goodnight, Cas.” he said softly.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas sighed and closed the door gently. Cas hopped up onto his bed and thought for a few minutes about Dean’s story. If only they had someone to confirm it, someone inside CREEP who would be willing to divulge information to Castiel.

Just before he slipped back into sleep an idea finally clicked into his head.

~

The next morning Cas texted Dean to come and meet him at the park in the courtyard to discuss a new possible lead. Cas was there first, and he handed Dean a coffee and a muffin when he arrived.

“Oh god Cas, this is amazing.” He groaned, taking an enormous bite of the muffin. “Where did you get these?”

“The bakery on the North corner of campus, I could take you there if you’d like.” Cas said, pointedly ignoring Dean’s continued moaning into the muffin. When it became absolutely too much, Cas finally interrupted him.

“Dean. Could you please stop making out with the muffin, I have some important information to tell you.” Dean coughed into what was left of the baked good and set it down on the napkin beside him. “I think I might have a source we can use.”

“Are you serious? Who is it?” Dean asked excitedly and Cas told him the story.

“Back home in Chicago I went to an all-boys Catholic school.” Cas started, ignoring Dean’s snide – of course you did – remark. “There was, however, an all girls school across the street. We used to join up in the field a block away for gym class so I became friends with a number of them. One of the girls…” Cas wasn’t sure how to proceed here. Should he tell Dean her name? How much of her story did he really need to give?

“The more you tell me the better, Cas.” Dean said, sensing his apprehension. “If it makes you feel better though, you only have to tell the others what you feel is necessary.” Cas nodded a thank you and continued.

“Her named was Meg Masters. She was a couple years older than me, but she helped out in the younger student’s classes for community volunteer hours. Meg was very troubled. She didn’t have a very nice life at home and I think I was the only person she ever told that to, or at least the first.”

“So you guys were close?” Dean offered.

“I suppose so. Neither of us were very sociable, but we stuck by each other at difficult period in both our lives. So yes, we were quite good friends.” Cas knew he was leaving out the details, but he still wasn’t sure how much of his past he wanted to divulge to his friends yet.

“Alright, but what’s all this got to do with CREEP?” Dean asked.

“She goes to BC.” Cas replied. Dean leaned back on the bench, realization about where this was going suddenly striking him.

“Meg works for CREEP, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.” Cas admitted. “And from what I’m led to assume, she is relatively high up in the administration but on deep background. So not a whole lot of people know that she works there, and those that, do don’t know what she does.”

“Jesus Cas, do you even know?”

“No.” Cas said. Dean shook his head worryingly, clearly not liking the situation. “Dean I know this isn’t the most legitimate way of getting information, but I think that we should at least try.”

“How do you even know she’s going to talk to you?” Dean asked after a couple of moments. Cas met his eyes from across the small park bench.

“She owes me a favour.”

~

That night Cas sat on his small dorm room bed, phone in hand and thumb hovering over the call button. He had wanted to come across as confident to Dean because he wanted this to work out, but he honestly wasn’t sure. What if she didn’t know anything and was offended by his assumption that she might be involved in back room deals like this. On the other hand, what if she did know something, something that could really help them. He wouldn’t honestly put it past Meg to push herself into dealings like this. But if she was a willing participant, would she tell him anything? Was she so indebted to him that she would go against her friends and coworkers to help him out? He impulsively hit ‘call’ to avoid the inevitable existential crisis he was about to have concerning what he would do if he were put in the same position. She answered on the third ring.

“Heya, Clarence. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

He had never understood her nickname for him. Yes, she had explained that he looked like a little cherub that had fallen from heaven, but he was still unsure why the cherub’s name was ‘Clarence’.

“Hello, Meg. I’m sorry; I know we haven’t talked in some time. I’ve been busy.”

“I know that, dumbass. I read the papers. You’ve written some interesting stuff.”

“Oh.” He had never even considered that she might have been waiting for a call like this. He decided to play it cool. “So you’ve read my articles then?”

“You could say that…” she said knowingly.

“Well what do you think?” Cas said with obvious false excitement.

“Cut the crap, Castiel. What do you want?” He could never get anything past Meg.

“I want to know if you have any information about what CREEP has been up to in recent years.” He asked her hesitantly.

“Well, last week we held a bake sale for breast cancer awareness.” She replied smartly.

“Meg, you know what I mean.” Cas stated bluntly. He should have known that Meg was going to be difficult about this. Just because he had changed in the past couple years, doesn’t mean that she had.

“Yeah you know what, maybe I do know something. But even if I did, what the hell makes you think I’m gonna tell you?” she asked viciously.

“Because you owe me, Meg.” He replied. There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments and he began to worry that Meg had hung up on him until she finally spoke again.

“You’re really gonna play that card now?” she said, a little quieter than before but with no less vitriol. “You really think you deserve this? I haven’t talked to you or seen you in months and then I hear that you’re writing things about the people I work for and suddenly you call me up. But not to talk, no. To ask me to rat out my friends for you. Can you see why I’m maybe not taking this the way you had hoped?”

Cas didn’t know what to say. It’s not as though he could refute her claims, she was right after all. “Meg, I’m sorry.” He said honestly. Neither of them said anything for a few moments.

“I know kiddo.” She finally said. Cas was strangely reminded of Charlie when she said that. “Is this something that really matters to you?” she asked.

“Yes.” He replied quickly, sounding hopeful. “It’s very important to me.”

“Alright.” She said. Cas silently fist bumped the air, a motion that he had picked up from Dean. “I can give you some information. On the record, but anonymously.” She said, though still a little reluctantly.

“That’s fine.” He agreed, pulling out his notepad and pressing his cell phone up to his ear, wedged between his shoulder and cheek. “Okay, firstly I need a confirmation about – ”

“Stop! Are you fucking insane?!” she cried. “Not over the phone you idiot, what if they’re tapping my cell!”

Cas paused, confused for a moment. “Why, is that a thing that they do?” he asked, trying to lead her into the answer.

“Is it even illegal anymore? The US government does it all the time.” She asked, honestly curious about the answer.

“Honestly Meg I’m not sure what’s legal and what’s not anymore.” He admitted. “Why, have CREEP done some things that are questionably legal?” He asked, still obviously fishing for answers.

“Damn, Clarence. You’re good at this.” He smiled at that. “Like I said though, not on the phone. We need to meet somewhere.”

“Okay… but if we say where we’re going to meet and they’re tapping your phone… won't they know where we’re going to be?” he thought about it for a moment more. “Actually, if they’re tapping your phone then don’t they already know that you’re going to tell me things?”

“Shit.” Meg said after a minute. “Okay if you don’t find my body floating in the Washington Channel by tomorrow morning, then meet me by the water fountain outside the gym at this time exactly and we’ll discuss more then.”

“Okay I will see you then.”

“Bye.”

“Wait, Meg.” He stopped her before she hung up. “Thank you for this. I mean it.” He added.

“You know I’d do anything for you, Clarence.” He laughed softly and set his phone down only once he heard the telltale tone of someone hanging up the phone.

 

Sure enough, the next day at the time they had agreed upon, Meg was waiting for him outside the college gym. He walked over to her happily and was about to say something when she cut him off by jarringly pressing her finger to his lips, slapping a folded piece of paper into his hand, and pecking a quick kiss to his cheek with a smile. She was gone before he even processed what had happened.

On the paper was the building code of the engineering complex on campus and a corresponding room number as well as a time and a date. Tomorrow at 11:30 pm. Cas sent Dean a text early the next morning letting him know that things were in the works but that it was better if he didn’t get involved quite yet. Dean wasn’t too pleased about the last bit but Cas assured him that everything would be fine and that Cas would tell him everything in the end.

At 11:15 pm that night, Cas was waiting in their designated spot, hoping that Meg was not going to bail on him at the last moment. It was a darkened classroom in the heart of the engineering building. The latch on the handle had been taped over and the door fell open easily. Cas suspected Meg had put it there earlier in the day. It was obvious that she had prepared for this, but Cas still wouldn’t put it past her to back out. His suspicious were found incorrect when fifteen minutes later, right at 11:30, Meg crept into the room. Light from the hallways poured into the room for only a moment and she shut the door quickly behind her.

“Honey, I’m home.” Meg called in a sing-song voice.

“I don’t understand that reference.” Cas replied dully. Meg rolled her eyes.

“That’s not even a reference anymore, it’s just a thing that people say.” Her protests fell on deaf ears.

“Meg can we just get to the point?” he pleaded.

“You’re no fun, Clarence.” She huffed. “Okay, okay I’ll be serious. Let’s start with what you know first, and we’ll see where I can lead you.”

Cas agreed and pulled out his notebook. He told her the story from the beginning to where him and Dean were at now. He chose not to mention Dean’s name quite yet though. He wasn’t sure how she would react to knowing that he was sharing all of this information with someone else. He almost slipped up when discussing their most recent piece of information though.

“…then, about a week ago De- I was tipped off by a friend about a cheque given to one of the partiers for $2500.” She thankfully didn’t notice his fumble and instead gave him the first new piece of information he’d received that night.

“Follow the money.” She stated. Cas paused in his ramblings.

“What?”

“I said follow the money.” She repeated with emphasis. Cas scribbled it down on his notebook.

“Why, is there more where that came from?” he asked, his heartbeat quickening in excitement.

“I’m not going to say any more.”

“Meg, please, I need to know.” He begged.

“No Castiel.” She said with a note of finality. “I can’t give you everything. I will lead you down the right path… but I can’t hand this story to you on a silver platter. I still have some loyalties to CREEP. Not only that, but I don’t know everything. I do their dirty work for them, but that doesn’t mean I’m in on all of their secrets.” She said affronted. Cas had the impression that CREEP probably didn’t treat her well. He wondered how she could still possibly be loyal to them. “Besides, you’re smart. You’re good at this, you’ll figure it out.”

He brightened a little at that. “I understand, Meg. Thank you for what you’ve given me.” She made a move to leave but he stopped her. “Wait, what if I need to reach you again? I know you don’t want me calling you.” She thought about it for a moment.

“What if you put a sign up in your window, and then we’ll know to meet here at 11:30 the next night.”

Cas sighed. “My window faces a brick wall, you wont be able to see it.”

“What if you put a sign on the front of your door?”

Cas squinted in confusion. “You can’t get into my dorm.”

“Goddamn it, Clarence.” She exclaimed in frustration. “Do you know how to use Snapchat?” He looked at her puzzled for a moment. “I’ll take that as a no.” She took his notepad from him and wrote down what appeared to be some sort of username. “Get a Snapchat account and add me.” She handed the notepad back to him and walked to the door.

“But I don’t even know what this is.” He called to her from across the room. She opened the door and then turned back to him.

“Ask your friend for help. You know, the one you’re not telling me about.” She smirked as Cas shrunk down in embarrassment. She hadn’t missed his slip-up, or the fact that he was so obviously working with someone else on the story. “Night, Clarence.”

She walked out the room and snapped the door shut behind him, leaving Castiel standing alone in the room, thrown in complete darkness.  

~

Cas walked into the office hurriedly the next day, his shoulder bag slung across his body haphazardly. Charlie and Benny were both by Dean’s desk and he didn’t want to be rude by asking them to leave. Besides, it’s not like they couldn’t hear what he had been told anyways.

“Dean,” he caught the man’s attention, “that source that I had, I met with them last night and I think I have some information.”

“Holy shit, really?” he responded excitedly. “Cas that’s awesome.”

“Wait, what is this?” Charlie questioned to them both.

“It’s about that cheque I was telling you about Charlie.” Dean replied for him. “Cas has a source that we thought might be able to confirm or deny whether it was worth looking into.”

“Is it?” Benny asked, joining the conversation. Cas nodded.

“Very.”

“Okay, what exactly did he say?” Charlie asked, sounding a little more than skeptical.

“She, actually. And she said to ‘follow the money’.” Cas replied, mainly to Dean directly.

“So we’re on a good start then. I think we should-”

“Wait, wait. Hold on just a minute.” Charlie said, cutting Dean off. “Who is this girl?”

Cas looked around nervously for a moment. “I... I can’t tell you that. She would prefer to remain anonymous.” Charlie frowned, clearly displeased with his answer.

“And how exactly do you know her?”

“I also can’t tell you that.” Cas cringed at Charlie’s increasingly angry expression. “I’m sorry but if you knew how I know her, you could easily trace her back from me and ruin the anonymity.” Charlie narrowed her eyes.

“That’s what I don’t like about this. You know how I feel about anonymous sources, Cas. If they’re not willing to say who they are then how much can they really be trusted?”

“I understand that, I do. But I trust her, I wouldn’t have gone to her if I didn’t.” he said reassuringly.

“So what, you got the hots for this chick or something?” Benny asked teasingly. Dean’s focus snapped back to Cas instantaneously. Cas looked around nervously, just noticing that they had gained a small audience for what was not the first time in the small-enclosed office. It was a tight knit group and everyone seemed to like everyone else’s going-ons, something that Castiel was still trying to get used to.

“Umm, no I do not, as you say, ‘have the hots for her’.” he said timidly, feeling his face flush slightly.

“Not anymore, or never?” Benny continued to pry.

“Never.” Cas replied bluntly.

“Why, is she not pretty?”

“I... I don’t know. I suppose she is, objectively nice... looking?”

“Objectively?” Benny grinned. “Do you not find the ladies subjectively nice looking?”

Cas squinted his eyes at Benny. While part of him knows that no one is the newsroom will react the way his parents did, there is always a lingering fear that they’ll treat him differently. It’s the soft, knowing look that he gets from Charlie that gets him to hold his head high and answer Benny’s question.

“No, actually.” he said with a surprising amount of confidence. “No I don’t.”

“HAH!” Charlie exclaimed, pointing at Dean. “I knew it! You owe me ten bucks, Winchester!” Dean grumbled and pulled a crumpled ten dollar bill out of his wallet, and pausing for a moment to stare at it longingly before smacking it into Charlie’s outstretched hand. She smirked at him and then leaned up to whisper into his ear something that made him blush profusely. Cas looked at them both with the best death glare he could summon, and it seemed to do the trick as they quieted down and hung their heads sheepishly.

“Now that we’ve established my sexual orientation,” Cas said slowly, “can we please get back to-”

“WAIT!” Becky called from behind them, making them jump and turn their heads to listen to her. “I need to update his Facebook page first!” Which elicited a stifled groan from Cas himself and looked to Charlie for help. She sighed and took him by the arm to lead him into her office, Dean and Benny following close behind.

They discussed how to best approach the story next and where to take the lead that Castiel had been given. Dean gave out the idea that if they should follow the money, then the CREEP treasurer would be a good place to start. From the increasing amount of research Cas had begun doing on CREEP, he remembered that the treasurer this year was a young student named Alfie Sloan and noted it down in the notebook that he now kept with him almost at all times.

Charlie also agreed that Cas’s source was allowed to remain anonymous but that if they were going to be using her for more things, it would be prudent to pick a code name for her instead of always having to write ‘an anonymous source’ in the articles. Dean of course pitched the most obscene nickname he could come up with, which happened to be ‘Deepthroat’.

“Because she’s on deep background with these guys and just because... it’s edgy.” he said, sounding more and more like a petulant child trying to reason with their parents about why he should get the flashy toy that he wanted from the store. “The Sun is always edgy, why can’t we be edgy sometimes?”

“Damn it, Dean because we’re the reputable news source at this school and they’re a fucking joke.” Charlie scathed.

“Nah I like it.” Benny grinned. “Let’s go with Deepthroat.”

“Let’s ask Cas considering it’s his source, asshole.” Charlie quipped. The three of them turned to Cas to hear his final say.

“Umm.” He gulped nervously. “What’s a ‘deepthroat’ and why is it edgy?”

 


	4. Mitchell

 

Dean and Cas had decided that to make a bigger impact, they wouldn’t release the story in bits and pieces, but rather in one exclusive front page spread when they had enough evidence to prove their claims.

Their next lead took them to the Arts building on the North side of campus to wait for Alfie Sloan to get out of his 8:00 Shakespearean Lit course. 8:00 was too early to get up for anything, in Cas’s opinion. Cas had also found that over the course of the year, it’s best to not ask how Dean and Charlie dig up certain information on people; like the treasurer of CREEP’s entire course schedule for example.

Dean was wearing a green plaid shirt under his maroon leather jacket this morning. His worn jeans were dotted with holes and oil stains. Cas thought he looked quite comfortable and wished that he had more clothes like Dean’s, instead of the tight button up shirts and dress pants that he wore, simply because he had no other clothing options. His wardrobe was made up almost entirely of clothes that his mother deemed worthy for Church and a good majority of those were hand-me-downs from his older brother Michael. Dean’s clothes though looked very, very comfortable; they suited him well.

“Where do you get your clothes?” Cas asked bluntly. Dean choked on his coffee.

“Umm, an army-surplus store? Target, on occasion...” he eyed Cas hesitantly. “Why do you ask?”

“They look very comfortable.” Cas yawned.

“Okay, it’s officially too early in the morning for you to be making any sense right now.”  

Cas sighed. “All of my clothes are uncomfortable hand-me-downs from my brother or clothes that people should only wear to Church.” Dean chuckled and took a sip of his coffee.

“When we finish with this Alfie kid, I’ll take you to the store and you can get some clothes.” Cas’s eyes lit up at Dean’s promise and then quickly snapped to the door as the class ended and students began filing out into the hall. Cas spotted the boy they were looking for, and Dean got to him first.

“Hey kid!” Dean called. The boy looked up at him, and moved over towards them. “You’re Alfie Sloan, right?”

“W-well actually my name is umm Samandriel, b-but yes that’s, that’s me.” The kid was practically shaking in his shoes, looking from Dean to Cas worriedly.

“Okay, well my name is D-”

“I know who you are.” he said with a sliver of confidence. “And you should know that... I- I’m not supposed to talk to you. So… have a nice day.” He turned around and began to walk away.

“Wait,” he said jumping in front of the boy. Cas couldn’t let another lead just slip from their fingers again, not when they were getting so much closer to the truth. “Please, just a few minutes. We can talk where no one will see us.” Cas motioned to a door just down the hall that said ‘Men’s Restroom’. Alfie nodded sharply and followed Dean and Cas into the small washroom. Thankfully, no one was in it and Dean clicked the lock on the door behind them, crossed his arms and glared down at Alfie.

“Here’s how this is going to work. We’re going to tell you what we know, you’re going to confirm that information, and then tell us what we don’t know.” he said a little menacingly. The boy nodded timidly.

“We know that on January 9th of this year five students, who all worked for CREEP, broke into the Skye Room to bug the SRP’s HQ to get information.”

Alfie nodded. “Everyone in the school knows that.”

“Yeah.” Dean cut in. “But we know that they were paid to do it. Is that true, Alfie?” Alfie’s expression became one of pure terror and fright.

He looked from Cas to Dean, hoping that some miracle would get him out of the situation he was currently in. When none came, he sighed and whispered yes.

“All of them were?!” Dean exclaimed. Another yes. “How much money?”

“It... it varied in amounts for each person, each time.” Alfie whispered.

“Each time? Cas are you getting this?” Dean said to Cas, not taking his eyes off of Alfie. Cas held up his notebook on which he had written in large capital letters ‘MULTIPLE PAYOFFS, MULTIPLE INCIDENTS’ for Dean to read.

“Where did the money come from?” Cas asked in place of Dean who was still just staring at Alfie in shock. The boy looked like he was about ten seconds from throwing up his breakfast, and actually began shaking a little bit.

“There’s a fund that someone set up in CREEP that pays off the people to spy on the SRP, amongst other things.”

“Who set this fund up.” Cas asked. For the first time, Alfie shook his head no.

“I can’t tell you that.” he replied.

“Alfie we need to-”

“No.” he said forcefully, surprising everyone including himself. “I’ve given you all the information I can. You can’t quote me in any of your articles, okay?”

“We’re not going to.” Cas said, reassuringly. “But can you tell us anything about who might have set up this slush fund?” Alfie paused for a moment, looking at Cas warily.

“I can tell you that whoever did it, is way higher up in CREEP than me.”

“Higher up than the treasurer?” Dean exclaimed in disbelief. Alfie nodded again.

“Can I please leave now?” he begged. Cas motioned for Dean to unlock the door.The boy rushed out of the room before Cas could thank him for his information. They gave him a minute before also walking out of the room into the now empty hallway.

Dean exhaled dramatically and pressed his head onto the cold concrete wall.

“Cas, what have we got ourselves into here...” he sighed looking rather defeated despite the astounding information he had just heard. Suddenly Cas felt bad that he had dragged Dean into the story that only he should have had to shoulder the burden for.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas said apologetically. Dean lifted his head off the wall and stared quizzically at Cas.

“What are you sayin’ sorry for man?”

“Well I suppose you are frustrated with the story and if you don’t want to continue anymore then I’ll understand...” Cas murmured, looking down at his shoes.

“Cas, are you insane?” Dean walked over to get closer to him. “This is the best story I’ve ever worked on and there’s no one I’d rather write it with than you.” he said with a light smile. Cas was perplexed. Why did Dean look so mad then?

“Then why-”

“I just wish that everyone else saw it that way.” Realization hit Cas hard.

“You’re angry that no one will talk to us.” Dean nodded looking rather downtrodden.

“And everyone that does wants to stay anonymous. I just wished that more people in this school actually gave a crap about this story.”

Cas smiled. “Not everyone has such a firm sense of righteousness as you, Dean.”

“Was that an insult?” Dean teased.

“Not even close.” Cas replied. Dean rolls his eyes, grinning and wrapping an arm around Cas’s shoulder, pulling him towards the exit.

“C’mon, I promised you a shopping trip. We’ll deal with the story later.”

~

Dean took him to a small, dimly lit shop downtown that advertised gently used clothing at bargain prices. Cas decides that it’s his favourite store the moment he realizes that there isn’t a single dress shirt in it. He ran his fingers through soft t-shirts and well-loved jeans.

“I have never seen someone so happy about old t-shirts.” Dean laughed. Cas squinted at him jokingly. Dean ruffled his hair, which only infuriated him further. “Aww, I’m just teasing Cas. C’mon, there are some sweaters near the back that I think you might just love...”

He ended up getting two t-shirts, one short sleeved and one long sleeved, a plaid button down shirt, two pairs of jeans, one pair of dark blue sweatpants and Cas’s personal favourite, a long tan trenchcoat. Dean said it was too big and looked ridiculous on him, but Cas argued that it was very warm, and made him feel like a real reporter. They still had enough time in the day to work on the story with the new evidence. Unfortunately, when they reached the office they found the place to be locked. Neither of them were ever given keys, something that Cas found strange about Dean.

“You’re Charlie’s favourite newsie, how has she not given you a key yet?” Cas asked.

“Oh my god, Cas. It’s not like we’re dating, she’s not obligated to hand me the damn keys to her office.” he retorted. Cas groaned.

“Well what are we supposed to do now? We need to get something down on paper before we forget all the details” Cas sighed.

“To be fair, there weren’t a lot of details...”

“Dean!”

“Okay, okay.” Dean sighed. “Do you have your laptop on you?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Alright, well lets just go to my place.” Dean said. Cas balked at his blunt statement.

“Umm, okay I mean. If you’re okay with that then I’m... okay. Yeah.” Cas said, fumbling through his words.

“Cool.” Dean said slowly. “Let’s pick up some chips on the way.”

Cas just smiled and nodded.

He was going to go to Dean’s apartment, and see his things, and probably sit on his chairs, and maybe even his couch. Now was probably not the best time to think about his stupid school boy crush on him, but it would be okay. No big deal.

~

It was okay at first. Cas quite liked the chips that Dean bought and they decided to make sandwiches and put the chips inside it; something that Dean had read online but had not gotten around to trying yet. They set up their laptops on his small kitchen table and started working on the story while eating the sandwiches. They argued for a while about who Sloan could have possibly been talking about. Upon realizing that neither of them actually knew the majority of CREEP members or how the chain of command worked, they invented a little game.

They went onto CREEP’s website and found out the names, positions and photos of all the members of CREEP on the payroll. Exempting Sloan, they didn’t recognize a single person so they printed out the photos of each person on one side of a cue card, and their name and position on the other side. After studying each of the people separately, they came back together and tested each other using the makeshift flash cards.

“Oh my god I know this one!” Dean exclaimed, slapping a hand to his forehead as if to draw the answer out of his brain. “He’s a creepy bastard, isn’t he?”

Cas peered around to the front of the card. “I suppose he looks a little more frightening than the average person.” Cas looked back to Dean who was now making small shaky motions with his fingers in the air. Cas was almost certain that the motions were probably not helping him remember the name of the CREEP member, but he let him get on with his methods nonetheless.

“He’s got a funny name too... OH!” he cried, “Alastair Mitchell! He’s the head of the Law and Justice Department at CREEP.”

Cas smiled. “Correct.” He handed the cards over to Dean who flipped through them, and then held one out of a young woman with light brown hair. Cas focused his concentration, and squinted his eyes. He seemed to remember that she also had something to do with the Legal Department but her name was...

“Naomi Parkinson. Legal counselor.” Cas exclaimed. Dean whooped and held out his hand in a fist. Cas looked at it perplexed for a moment before holding his own fist out and bumping it lightly into Dean’s. Dean laughed at Cas’s hesitancy before handing the cards over to continue with their little game.

When they were both sufficiently satisfied with their knowledge of the inner workings of CREEP, they turned back to their tin-hat conspiracy theories of how high up the scandal really went.

“It’s got to go at least as far as Mitchell.” Cas said thoughtfully, sipping the coffee Dean had made him ten minutes ago. Dean laughed at Cas’s suggestion. “What?”

“Cas, dude. Mitchell is practically Richardson’s right hand man!”

“I know that, Dean. I just spent the past hour and a half playing flashcard games with you. I know who Alastair Mitchell is and how high up he is in CREEP. I still think he’s involved.”

Dean sat contemplatively for a minute. “Do you think Richardson knows? Like not organized it but... knew about it before.” Cas considered it for a minute.

“I’m not sure, Dean. Would it really matter if he did though?”

“I know you weren’t here last year, so I’ll forgive you for that last comment.” Cas sighed dramatically. The newsies get like this sometimes with stuff that Cas doesn’t know about the school. Apparently this was no different.

“Cas, last year’s election had the biggest voter turnout at the school in fifty-six years. I don’t know why, but Nick Richardson just makes people care about politics, and about what goes on at the school. I mean he’s awkward and cold and he kind of looks like a cardboard cutout of a typical politician.” Dean paused in his speech to think for a moment. “But that almost what we needed. People got so tired of the past ten years of douchey college kids who smoke and drank and didn’t care about where the money went or what changes the school made. So Richardson got elected on the promise that he was going to be different. And if after all this, after everything that Richardson stands for and represents if he just went back on all of that... I don’t know Cas. I think the school would feel betrayed.”

“Shit sorry, man.” he laughs, pulling himself out of his reverie. “I just kind of dumped a lot on you there.” Cas chuckled.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s interesting to hear your side of things.”

“Yeaaah, but ultimately it’s just some dumb school election. I make it sound as dramatic as Star Wars or somethin’.” Dean sighed, sipping at his coffee.

“Well I’ve never seen Star Wars, so I wouldn’t know anyways.”

“Cas, you’ve never seen Star Wars?!” Dean looked mortified. “How could. What. I mean. Jesus, Cas have you been living under a rock for the past eighteen years?!”

“I, I don’t know Dean. I just haven’t seen it!” he exclaimed. Dean pulled out his cell phone and began dialing in a number. “Dean.” No answer. “Dean what are you doing?”

“I’m ordering pizza. We’re having a Star Wars marathon.”

Cas laughed awkwardly. “Umm... what about the story, Dean?”

“Cas stop worrying, we’ve got time. C’mon into the living room.” Dean put the phone to his ear, shut his laptop and walked into the living room, out of Castiel’s vision. Cas on the other hand, sat firmly planted in his chair, trying not to have an internal break down. Movies with Dean. On his couch. Again, no big deal. Dean poked his head around the wall. “Cas, you comin’?”

“Wha- oh yeah.” Cas said jumping up and following Dean into the living room. It was a decent sized room that wasn’t packed with furniture, but the pieces that were in it were tasteful, and looked very comfortable. Cas was beginning to learn that Dean quite liked small comforts that made his life just a little bit sweeter. They sat down on either ends of the medium sized, dark brown couch and Dean launched into an explanation of what movie they were going to start with. Cas was a little bit confused as to why they were starting halfway through the series, but he trusted Dean enough to know what he was talking about when it came to movies. Especially these science fiction movies, they seemed to be Dean’s favourite.

They settled into the couch, the only disruption being the pizza man at the door about twenty minutes into the movie. Cas followed the story pretty well enough on his own, but the helpful little fun facts that Dean contributed throughout the movie certainly added to the experience. For example, in the scene where we meet one of the main characters, Dean made sure to pause the film and say ‘see how Han shot first there, Cas? Don’t let anyone tell you differently’. By the time the first movie had finished, Cas had slunk down into the couch and was curled up around a pillow. Dean poked the bottom of his foot.

“Wanna watch the next one?” he asked hopefully. Cas smiled, amused at Dean’s pleading expression.

“Do I really have a choice?”

Dean chuckled lightly at his answer and gently moved Cas’s feet out of the way to get up and put the next movie on. He too nestled deeper into the soft couch when he sat back down. His hands rested lightly on Cas’s outstretched feet that invaded a little into Dean’s space. If it was crossing boundaries a bit, Cas was too tired and too invested in the movie to notice.

Somewhere between the girl rescuing the man in the concrete, and main character watching the small green alien die, Cas dozed off. He woke up for a brief moment when the credits began to roll at the end of the third film to feel a blanket being draped over him and a hand run through his hair once. Dean quietly whispered goodnight, and clicked off the light. Cas’s last thought before slipping back into sleep was that everything about Dean was very, very soft.

Cas woke up to the sound of someone’s cell phone ringing and a strong smell of coffee under his nose. As he woke, he received a not altogether unpleasant jolt when he realized that Dean was the source of both.

“Cas, buddy,” he said, waving a large mug beside his head, “You gotta wake up man.” Cas sat up, rubbing at his eyes and taking the mug from him. “Yeah Charlie, what’s up?” Dean said into the phone. Cas peered into the mug tiredly, trying to remember what exactly happened last night while still listening to Dean and Charlie’s conversation fuzzily.

“What? Right now?” Dean said into the phone. “Can we like, get dressed first?”

“We. We?” Cas heard Charlie yell shrilly through the phone. “Who’s we?!” Dean laughed in Cas’s direction.

“It’s no big deal, Charlie. Cas and I were watching movies late last night and he crashed on my couch.” Charlie’s voice returned to a low enough pitch that Cas couldn’t hear her through the phone anymore. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be there in a half an hour, can you wait until then? Okay, we’ll see you in a few.”

Dean shut the phone and turned his attention back to Cas. “Hey man, how you feeling?”

“Honestly… really awful that I slept on your couch without even asking.” Dean brushed him off.

“Don’t sweat it, seriously I love having people over. Even unexpectedly.” Cas smiled up at him, feeling a little bit more relieved that Dean wasn’t mad, and a little less ashamed because of it. “Look, Charlie needs us in the office in a half hour, we’ve got to get a move on. I’ll put that coffee in a thermos for you” he took the mug back and walked the short distance to the kitchen. “Hey, why don’t you wear some of those new clothes you bought? Give everyone a real shock. Cas in jeans and a t-shirt on a Sunday morning; Charlie will have a fuckin’ heart attack.” he laughed. Cas agreed that it would be worth it, just to see everyone’s reactions. Plus, he was looking forward to trying on some of his new clothes.

He decided on the darker pair of jeans and the cozy sweater with the long-sleeved t-shirt underneath and threw the trenchcoat on last minute as they walked out the door. It was a chilly morning and he was glad for coat, along with the warm coffee in his hands that Dean had made him. Their entrance to the newspaper office was certainly one of shock, not that either of them expected anything less.

Charlie was standing diagonally across the room when she spotted them at the door. She pointed to them dramatically. Charlie was all about the drama. “Woodchester! Get over here now.” Cas looked at Dean, who’s confused expression mirrored Cas’s.

“Woodchester?” Becky asked from the desk beside Charlie.

“Yeah...” Charlie replied hesitantly. “Why, what do you call them?” Becky rolled her eyes.

“Destiel, obviously.” she said as if it was the most common sense statement in the world. Charlie pointed to her in acknowledgment.

“I like that. I’m going to use that.” she nodded.

“Hey.” Dean called, her attention snapping back to them. “Are we done with the stupid nicknames, what do you want?” Charlie shook her head and crossed her arms.

“No I’m not finished yet.” she looked at Cas. “Are you wearing Dean’s clothes?”

He laughed awkwardly. “... no.” Charlie’s eyes widened. “Okay, in fairness, I know that didn’t sound very convincing but the truth is probably more far fetched than whatever scenario is running through your mind but I’m too tired to correct you so can you please tell me why we were called in so early on a weekend?” he pleaded exasperatedly. Charlie sighed and ran her fingers through her already messy head of hair.

“Guys, listen up.” she called the rest of the newsies in the room over. “I just got the budget report in this morning and you’re not gonna like it. Hell, I don’t like it.”

“Aww, what’d they do this time?” Benny groaned.

“They’re slashing our funding by fifteen percent.” A chorus of angry cries rang out through the room. Cas looked at Dean with sad eyes, an all too knowing look reflected back to him.

“This is our fault, isn’t it?” Dean said quietly. “They don’t like the things we’re writing.”

“Hey,” Charlie said reassuringly. “This is not your fault. Sure, they probably don’t like that you’re calling them lying crooks every week, but they would’ve done this anyways. I just... I don’t know how much money we’ll have next year to keep this operation running.” Her voice cracked slightly at the last words. Charlie’s tough exterior almost never broke, which was why Cas knew not to take this new information lightly. It was times like this that Cas was reminded of how much this paper meant to Charlie, how much it meant to everyone here really. And as he was slowly realizing, how much it was beginning to mean to him.

“It’s okay Charlie,” Benny said, pulling Charlie in for a one armed hug, rubbing soothing circles to her back. “It’ll all work out in the end.”

With the pressures from the continued decrease in funding, Dean and Cas wanted to crack down harder on CREEP and get more information on the story. Dean wanted to work less on evidence, and more on speculations that would then lead to evidence; something that Cas had been against from the beginning.

“The problem is that you don’t even trust your own instincts, Cas. Even though you end up being right 90% of the time.” Dean said one afternoon in early March. “If we just start going with something, no matter how far fetched it might be, chances are it’s going to lead somewhere.”

A year ago wouldn’t have had the courage to stand up to opinions that he didn’t agree with, but Charlie had been talking to him more about taking charge of his own life and autonomy so he didn’t hesitate for a second to counteract Dean’s statements.

“I do trust my instincts, Dean. And my instincts tell me that if we push CREEP too hard, they will push back even harder. I don’t want to be the cause of Charlie’s paper getting shut down. I really don’t Dean. Especially if I’m not even-” Cas cut off abruptly, causing Dean’s expression to darken.

“Not even what, Cas?” he questioned. Cas stared him down before replying coolly.

“Nothing, Dean. Just let it go.” Dean opened his mouth to say something when Jo walked over and interrupted them.

“You guys look like you’re shooting daggers at each other over here, what’s goin’ on?” she asked speculatively.

“Nothing.” they both said at the same time.

“Okaaaaay...” Jo replied, clearly not believing them. “Look, I just came over here to see if you guys needed any help. I just finished my story and you guys look like you’re about to kill each other. Or y’know, angry make-out session. Whatever works. I don’t judge.”

“Jo, do you want to help or not.” Dean said exasperatedly.  

“Yes, yes. Okay, what do you need?” she clapped her hands together.

Cas thought about it for a moment before answering. The best thing anyone could help them with without getting too involved, is just whether they know anything about any of the members of CREEP. Cas pulled out their flash cards and held them out to her.

“You could start by letting us know if you know any of these people.” She pulled up a chair beside them and flipped through a couple photos, shaking her head at the first few. She stopped at one of them though and tapped at the card, biting her lip.

“Umm, okay. So don’t judge me for this, and I’m only even telling you because I trust you both and I know that this story is important to you.” Cas and Dean sat up in the chairs and nodded at her reassuringly. “I know him.” She held up the card of Alastair Mitchell.

“How do you know him?” Cas asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Last year we uhh, we sort of...” she trailed off awkwardly.

“Dated?” Dean offered. She shook her head. “Ahh, slept together.” he nodded in understanding.

“Just a few times, but yeah. Then I found out that he had a girlfriend at the same time and I told him that he was a fucking asshole and never saw him again.”

“Shit...” Dean said sympathetically. “Sorry, Jo. I never knew you were dealing with this crap all last year. You should’ve told me.”

“I know Dean, but you were just coming off of dealing with your own problems and I didn’t wanna put more onto your shoulders.”

Cas looked at them both quizzically. He knew that Jo and Dean were good friends at least last year, but apparently they knew each other before then as well. And what were the things that Dean was dealing with the year before? Maybe he would ask later, but right now they needed information from Jo.

“I’m sorry to hear about your situation last year, Jo.” he started with. “I hope everything is alright now.” he continued, glancing at Dean at the last moment to signal that even though Dean didn’t want to tell him what happened to him, that he hoped he was alright too. Dean shot him a quick smile and a nod.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I got over him. He was a creepy bastard anyways...”

“Alright, well did you ever hear him discussing CREEP matters? Anything at all?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, actually. He was always yelling at this one guy on his phone. Just constantly.” Dean and Cas shared a curious look.

“Do you know who it was?” Dean asked.

“I’m not really sure.”

“Please, Jo.” Cas cut in. “Anything you can remember would help.” She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, trying to recall any memories from the previous year.

“His first name... kind of sounded like Alastair’s. I think. I only ever heard him use it once. They all refer to each other by last names at CREEP, it’s like fucking Hogwarts or something.” she said, her eyes still shut tight to block out any distractions. Cas picked up the pile of flash cards and turned them to the backs where everyone’s name and rank was printed. He flipped through them looking for someone with a similar name as Jo continued. “His last name was weirdly long and started with an H I think... no it was an E. Definitely an E.”

“Ehrlichman?” Cas asked.

“Yes!” Jo exclaimed.

“Azazel Ehrlichman.” he said to Dean this time. “Richardson’s aide. Was influential in uniting inter-faculty relations, which was one of Richardson’s main platform points last year.” he read off of the note card. “Dean, you were joking that Mitchell is Richardson’s right hand man, but if anyone is - it’s Azazel.”

“Okay, but hold up Cas.” Dean held out his hands. “You’re the one that never wants to jump to conclusions. Of course Ehrlichman and Mitchell talked about things, they both belong to the same political party and probably had a lot of things to discuss.” he held back no amount of sass so naturally Cas returned it in kind.

“Fine, Dean.” he snapped. “Jo, what did they talk about?”

She looked from Dean to Cas, not wanting to appear to be taking a side. “Umm, well they talked about lots of different things. Rarely personal lives though, just stuff about CREEP. Sometimes platform points he wanted clarified. Sometimes it was re-election talk. A lot of it was about money though.”

“Money?! What, what about money?!” Dean jumped up excitedly.

“Calm down, Dean. It’s CREEP. Maybe they just talk about money.” Cas raised his eyebrows sarcastically. Dean glared at him. Jo again looked hesitant to continue for fear of jumping in the middle of something, but Dean urged her on.

“Just, where the money was going, and who was getting a cut of what. He used to brag about it too, that they all had a foolproof plan to get Richardson elected.”

“Did he ever say who specifically had this plan?” Cas said with amazement at what she was telling them.

“Never specifics. But he talked to that Ehrlichman guy a lot. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help...”

“No Jo, you’ve been so helpful.” Dean reassured her. “We know a lot more than we did five minutes ago.” Cas nodded. Jo smiled at them and then returned to her own desk. Dean and Cas were silent for a few moments, trying to process all the information.

“We need more confirmation.” Cas finally said.

“Jesus, Cas I know. You don’t have to keep friggin’ saying it.” he rolled his eyes and flopping back into his chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Well where are we going to get it?” Cas asked, sounding more and more defeated by the minute. Dean pushed himself back upright to look at Cas with a questioning apologetic expression, as if he knew Cas would react badly to what he was going to say.

“...Deepthroat?”

~

“This was an awful idea.”

“No it’s not.”

“I should not have brought you.”

“Yes you should have.”

“She’s not going to like this.”

“Cas, would you shut the hell up.” Dean hissed to him. They were both in the empty classroom that Cas met with Meg in - Deepthroat he had to constantly remind himself. He didn’t want to accidentally slip up in front of someone one day and say her real name. Cas had got Dean to set up that ‘Snapchat’ account and they sent her a message about the time, date, and location of a meant up. Dean had insisted on coming with him this time to hear the information first hand and Cas had a difficult time refusing him. Besides, Meg had mentioned his ‘friend’ at the end of their first meeting.

The door to their right opened slowly, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway into the darkened classroom, and a figure slipped in through it.

“Castiel Woodward I’m gonna rip your fucking brain out through your nose and strangle you with it!” Meg advanced on him and raised her hand to hit him in anger, which he pathetically blocked by slapping at her hands. “Deepthroat. Deepthroat?! Who the fuck do you think I am?!”

“Hey hey,” Dean cut in, “give the kid a break, it wasn’t his idea. He didn’t even know what it meant.” Dean’s statements unfortunately had the opposite effect of calming her down and just made her angrier.

“Oh, and let me guess. You gave him a practical demonstration.” Dean gaped at her audacity. “Who the fuck is this guy, Woodward? Is he that ‘friend’ of yours that you didn’t wanna talk about last time?”

“He’s a coworker of mine, we’re writing the story together.” Cas said reassuringly.

“Just a coworker?” Meg and Dean asked simultaneously. Meg a little skeptical and Dean a little hurt.

“Okay, we’re friends. Does it matter?”  Cas said, getting angry with the both of them. “Meg we need you to confirm some information.” She dragged her death glare off of Dean and set in on Cas again.

“I don’t know if I really want to help you anymore, Woodward. You’ve given me a terrible nickname, and you’ve told other people my real identity and then you brought this asshole with you.”

“Please, Meg. You’re our only hope.” Cas cringed at his use of the cheesy line. Dean seemed to quite enjoy it, however.

“Oh now he gets pop culture references. What did you do to him?” she advanced on Dean who held his hands up defensively.

“I just showed him a couple movies.” He said hurriedly. She backed down somewhat.

“Alright, what do you need to know?” she finally sighed, turning her question towards Castiel.

~

“Jesus Christ, Cas you were right.” Dean said ecstatically after they finally left the classroom. After she had confirmed that Mitchell indeed knew about the slush funds set up, and had even taken quite a big role in the establishment of the fund, Meg had wanted them to leave the classroom separately and in ten-minute intervals. Meg first, and then Dean and Cas would follow.  

“I know.” Cas replied excitedly.

“Let’s call him.” Dean stopped dead in his tracks looking at Cas with a manic expression. “Let’s call him up and tell him that we fucking know.” Without waiting for Cas’s permission, Dean grabbed his phone out of his pocket and began dialing the number that they had gotten off of his Facebook.

“Dean are you insane?!” Cas said, trying to deter his friend from the move he was about to pull, but Dean wasn’t going to budge. Cas suspected it had something to do with how Mitchell had treated Jo. Dean honoured his friends like he would family, and hated to see them hurt.

The phone must have rang ten times before Mitchell picked up.

“Who the fuck is this?” he grumbled through the receiver. Dean cleared his throat.

“Alastair Mitchell, my name is Dean Winchester, I’m a reporter for the BC Post. I just want to let you know about the story we will be printing in the paper on Monday morning.” There was silence on the other end so Dean took it as his cue to continue. “First we know that you had an affair with Jo Harvelle at the time that you were dating your current girlfriend.” They probably weren’t going to publish that fact, but the fact that Dean mentioned it further confirmed Cas’s theory that this thing with Mitchell was personal for Dean. “But more importantly, we know that you had knowledge of and helped set up a slush fund for CREEP that paid off party members to spy on the SRP.” At that point Mitchell finally spoke.

“Jeeeeeeesus...” It was quiet enough in the street for Cas to hear every word clearly.  

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” asked Dean, hatred dripping from his voice.

“All that crap that you’re putting in the paper, it’s all been denied. Charlie Bradbury’s gonna get her tit caught in a big fat wringer if that’s published. This is the most sickening thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You know what’s the most sickening thing I’ve ever heard, Alastair? This whole goddamn story. This awful lie that you and everyone at CREEP have been feeding us from the very beginning. That you guys were going to change things around here and make this school a better place. But you’re liars. You’re all just fucking crooks and I swear to god, I will hunt you all to the ends of this earth to prove it.” Dean finished furiously.

“Then you know what Winchester,” Alastair spat after not a moment’s pause, “you tell that Harvelle bitch and anyone else that works at that godforsaken paper of yours that we will hunt you back. You can count on that.” Alastair and Dean both hung up forcefully at the same time, leaving Dean and Cas alone in the dark, crisp March night with the threats hanging heavy in the air.

 


	5. Bradbury

 

Something about the story changed that night. It had been a week and Cas didn’t have the heart to bring it up, but he knew it was eating away at Dean by the minute. Dean was loyal to a fault. He valued righteousness and justice over everything else, but it was how he treated those who did not hold the same virtues as him that was his failing. He could be brash and quick to jump to conclusions, rarely gave out second chances, and constantly straddled the line between bravery and stupidity. Although Cas could tell that he was slowly becoming more calm and reasonable due the likely influence of his more laid back friends, like Benny and Chuck, he also noted that he has probably been stuck in his ways for quite a while now. Cas wondered what – or who – could have possibly made him that way and his desire to learn more about Dean’s life continued to grow. A few days later, unable to control his insatiable curiosity, he decided to ask him.

They were sitting in Dean’s kitchen with their laptops open eating a rather large bag of Cheetos. It was something they had taken to doing more recently, collaborating at Dean’s apartment rather than at the office, where they could eat copious amounts of junk food freely without reprimand from Charlie. Dean mentioned something about baseball and Cas was reminded of one of their first conversations, back during frosh week when Dean told him that it was the greatest game ever played.

“Have you ever played baseball, Dean?” Cas asked, keeping his voice innocently curious. Dean thought about it for a minute.

“Like in a league?” he asked. Cas nodded. “Umm yeah, when I was younger I played house league for a couple years. I was a first baseman and I wasn’t too bad, to be honest.” His face brightened considerably at the mention of the fond memories. “Sammy never took to it though, always been more of the academic one in the family.”

Cas smiled back at Dean. “Why did you stop playing?”

It was Dean’s turn to peer over his laptop screen at Castiel a little curiously.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I just realized that I don’t know a whole lot about your life.” said Cas.

“I don’t know a whole lot about your life either, Cas.” They stared at each other for a few moments in silence before Cas caved.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Dean nodded understandingly. “I won’t ask again.” Cas returned to his laptop a little shamefully and continued to work away for a few minutes in deafening silence. He looked up startled when Dean shut his laptop with a click, staring down at his and not meeting Cas’s eyes. Cas was sure that he was about to be asked to leave.

“When I was twelve my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.”

It was about the last thing that Castiel had expected to hear.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. Is she alright?”

“Oh god yeah, she’s fine now. She’s great.” Dean smiled in relief and explained a little further. “It was just a tough couple of years getting through it and the medical bills were crazy, so I decided to stop playing sports just to take the financial load off my folks a little bit.”

Cas smiled warmly. “I’m glad to hear that she’s alright. I’m sorry you had to give up something you love though.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Dean shrugged it off, but Cas could tell that it was probably something Dean wished he could have continued. To balance the scales a little, Cas offered a piece of his own history to make the situation less awkward.

“You asked me once why my parents didn’t want me to have a roommate in college.” Dean looked at him attentively as he continued. “When they learned that I was gay, they thought it would be bad for me to live in such close quarters to someone who was not a family member and with whom I might partake in…”

“Recreational activities?” Dean offered, smiling a little to try and lighten the conversation. Cas laughed.

“Something like that…” Cas picked at his notebook.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that, man.” Dean said honestly. Cas smiled tightly and shrugged.

“It is what it is I guess. How did your parents react? If you don’t mind me asking.” Cas questioned. A few months ago Cas had learned that for all of Dean and Charlie’s jokes during frosh, Dean actually did identify as bisexual, or as he liked to say, an ‘equal opportunist’.

“Well actually,” Dean scratched at the back of his head, searching for words, “my dad died a couple years ago. He never found out, so I don’t know what he would have thought. Something tells me he wouldn’t have taken it too well.” Dean expression hardened, like it always does when someone mentions Alastair or the entire business with CREEP for that matter. Dean doesn’t really have to say more than that; Cas can figure out from almost that sentence alone who it was in Dean’s past that left his otherwise warm, happy exterior a little scarred.

There was something under that expression that reminded Cas of the conversation they had during Frosh when he’d asked Dean why he was minoring in Women’s Studies. Not quite a lie, but definitely not the whole truth. Cas let it go for now, he didn’t want to push boundaries he’d already been poking at for the last few minutes.

“It’s just my mom, Sammy and me now. They’re both really great about it.” He smiled brightly at the mention of his mother and brother. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without them.”

Cas’s grin widened at Dean’s cheerful expression. “I’d love to meet them someday.” Cas said.

“Oh man, you have to!” Dean said excitedly. “You and Sammy would get along so well. You’re both nerds who wouldn’t know a good time if it hit you in the face,” Dean teased. He launched into a story about one time when Sam and him actually did something they both enjoyed together and it was an event he called ‘LARPing’. They both agreed that it felt like they were living in Lord of the Rings, which Cas admitted he also had not seen. The comment, as Cas probably should have expected, led to pizza and a movie marathon. These movies were much longer and were somehow even more complex than the previous series. Cas finally figured that it was probably because they were watching the extended versions – something he didn’t feel was really necessary but elected not to mention to Dean.

Cas admitted to himself that part of the reason he found these movies so confusing is that his mind kept wandering back to what Dean had told him about his family life. His admiration for the man continued to grow the more he learned about him. How someone could go through one parent having cancer and the other dying in a span of such short years and come out of it relatively unscathed was amazing.

Dean had to stop the marathon after the second movie, as they were both too tired to continue. He promised they would watch the third one in the morning, and that Cas could stay overnight to ensure that they would have optimal time to watch it. As Dean was turning off the lights for the night, Cas spoke up.

“Do you think my parents will ever come to terms with who I am?” he whispered timidly. Dean stilled on the other side of the couch, looking down at Cas sympathetically.

“I don’t know, Cas. I wish I could say for sure that they’ll take their heads out of their asses eventually, but I really don’t know.” Neither of them said anything for a while, the sound of soft breathing being the only thing that cut through the silent room. If Cas’s breath was a little shaky, Dean didn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your parents, Dean.” Cas finally said. Dean shot him a quick smile.

“I’m sorry about yours,” he replied. Cas closed his eyes and turned to nestle into the back of the couch, blocking the world away. “Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” he whispered back. Dean slipped into his room and shut the door lightly. Despite the worried thoughts running through his head, Cas drifted off into sleep within a couple minutes, leaving his dark thoughts for his conscious mind to tackle in the morning.

~

“I hate myself,” Cas whined, after the credits finally began to roll on the final film. “I actually hate myself.” Dean had excitedly shaken him awake at 6 o’clock this morning to complete the marathon after a mere three hours of sleep. When he inquired why it was necessary to start so early, Dean admitted that the movie was ‘kinda long’ and so four hours and twenty minutes later he was figuratively kicking himself for agreeing to this.

“I... I actually kind of feel that right now,” Dean admitted.

“Can I go back to sleep?” Cas begged. Dean probably would have agreed had he not been interrupted by his cell phone buzzing on the coffee table.

“Oh my god, it’s Charlie,” he groaned, picking the phone up and staring at the vibrating object angrily for a few moments. “Do you think she has ‘Dean-and-Cas-are-having-a-good-time’ senses because I swear to god she interrupts every fun thing we ever do.”

Cas made a noncommittal shrug and flopped back onto the couch, leaving Dean to deal with their relentless editor.

“I don’t understand why she can’t tell us whatever is so important on the phone...” Cas groaned, a couple steps from the office barely a half an hour later. Dean had dragged him off the couch and told him to be ready in ten minutes, citing some ‘important reason’ that Charlie had not divulged to them.

Unsurprisingly, they were mercilessly questioned about their whereabouts and why was Cas so tired, and what exactly Dean had ‘kept you up all night’ doing. Eventually she ran out of questions

 

A couple days later they contacted Sloan to ask if he had any anything to say on the matter of Alastair Mitchell being involved, but he turned them down for a comment. Meg refused to talk to them until they had something more to work with. It seemed that while they were gaining momentum, they were losing leads fast. There was a possibility to get more information soon, and perhaps even a quote about the scandal from Richardson himself. CREEP had just announced they were having a pep rally at the end of the week that Dean and Cas begged Charlie to let them attend. She reluctantly agreed, if only so that they would stop bugging her about their lack of leads.

Ironically enough, the rally was held in the Atrium, the place where the five students were found in the Skye Room. The rally mainly consisted of CREEP supporters and a couple CREEP members stood up at the front of the room with Richardson himself. Two smug reporters from the BC Sun were also in attendance, on the side of the room opposite to Dean and Cas.

The rally started off with a couple members saying a few words, and then finally introduced the man himself, Nick Richardson. He came forward under deafening applause and made a rousing speech about how well this year had gone, and how much he was looking forward to being in office next year as well. Then the part of the rally that Dean and Cas were hoping for arrived; he opened the floor for questions. Cas’s hand shot up immediately, but he saw Alastair lean over and whisper something into Richardson’s ear and both men looked over at Dean and Cas for a brief moment. Richardson called on someone else to answer a question. It was a freshman girl in the first row.

“Mr. Richardson, firstly I want to say that what you’ve done for this party, and this school is just truly amazing.” Her comment garnered more applause from the crowd. Dean rolled his eyes in Castiel’s direction and she continued with her question. “My question is about what great initiatives you’re going to be continuing with next year.”

Richardson thanked her for her question, gave her a typical rehearsed answer and moved on. It was easy to tell which way the crowd leaned on the political spectrum in the school. All of the questions presented opportunities for Richardson and CREEP to highlight their achievements and shoot down the opposition. What Castiel noticed most of all, was that even though the scales were tipped in their favor, Richardson took every chance and soared with it. He easily outmatched anyone else that had spoken that night in terms of speaking skill and practical knowledge of the issues. Cas didn’t have a hard time figuring out why he was so well loved, and elected with such a wide margin. It no mystery why they were finding it difficult to get the school to listen to them about the seedy back-room deals his administration made to get elected.

Cas kept his hand up the entire time, apart from a couple minutes when Dean raised his hand instead to give Cas a break. But their efforts held no successes for them, as they were ignored the entire time. Richardson finally called the rally to an end, and thanked everyone for their attendance.

“What the fuck,” Dean said angrily. Cas shook his head in disbelief. “No seriously, what the fuck. Cas we’re not just gonna take this, are we?” he asked, looking down at him.

“No, I guess we’ll have to head back to the office without a quote… I mean we could comment on his clear bias-”

“No way Cas, we’re not leaving empty-handed. This douche has so much to answer for.” Dean was already out of his seat and stalking to the podium before Cas could grab his messenger bag and trench coat to catch up.

“And what do you propose we do?” Cas asked, slightly out of breath after catching up to Dean.

“We’re going to ask him some questions. That’s all.” Cas gave him a puzzled look as Dean turned towards when Nick Richardson and his cronies were packing up their things.

“Nick Richardson, I’m Dean Winchester and this is Cas Woodward. We’re from the BC Post and seeing as you managed to answer questions from the Sun before you ran out of time before getting to us, and this is an equal-opportunity school, and since we and the Post believe in democracy and fair treatment, we figured now would be a great time for you to answer a few of our questions.” Dean spoke rapidly, holding a pen in one hand and balancing a small pad of paper and a recording device in the other. He finished his rant, which was oozing with saccharine and sarcastic under tones, with his go-to shit eating grin. By this time Richardson had collected his things and stood before Dean with a look of unrelenting disgust. He was flocked on either side with CREEPs, forming a triangle of smirking asses. Richardson gave Dean and Cas his judgmental elevator eyes that made Cas want to squirm under the glare.

“As if I would answer questions for that shit-hole of a newspaper, let alone questions from a pair of fags like you. Tell that bitch Bradbury that she can kiss all her funding goodbye, it’s about time this school was rid of that communist-loving rag.” And with that, Nick Richardson flashed his mega-watt politician grin, waved a mock salute and brushed between Cas and Dean to make his dramatic exit. He was followed by his CREEPs, who snickered and bumped into Cas and Dean as they passed.

They stood there, momentarily frozen by Richardson’s words. Cas glanced at Dean, who bore an expression of extreme fiery anger. Dean turned towards the retreating pack of CREEPs, the anger in his face coming to a boiling point. As Dean began to walk after Richardson, Cas grabbed his shoulder. Dean attempted to shake him off, but Cas pushed him down onto one of the now vacant benches.

“How dare he, how fucking dare he. Does he kiss his mother with that mouth, that bastard. He’ll pay for this, I swear. I’ll teach him to fucking say those things…”

“Dean, calm down, please.” Cas unconsciously gripped Dean’s shoulder harder, only to notice that he was touching him and promptly dropped his arm to his side.

“Why’d you stop me Cas? He can’t say those things. No one can. But the school looks up to him. Those freshmen that adore him, they all want to be like him, but he’s awful. Disgusting. Cruel. Slimey. He’s a rat. A liar. Goddammit Cas, we can’t just let him walk away from us, or get away with this.” Dean was shaking with anger at this point, and with Richardson no longer in the room Cas could feel the anger beginning to be directed towards himself.

“We’re not letting him get away with lying to the students. Yelling or arguing or whatever you were gonna do wasn’t going to fix that.” Cas spoke as calmly as he could, despite the anger that was still rising in his throat. “We’re going to get our revenge. We’re going to publish this, and then when the students have turned on him then we’ll have won.”

Dean just looked up at him incredulously.

“Are you just gonna let him say those thing to you?”

“Like I’m not already used to it...” Cas said, rolling his eyes disdainfully.

“Well you shouldn’t be,” Dean retorted angrily, standing up to meet Cas’s level, “and it’s fucked up that someone made you think otherwise.”

“I’m sorry that you don’t understand how to deal with some things unemotionally, Dean, but ignoring it is the only way I ever learned to cope,” he replied with equal vitriol.

“Pretending you’re a goddamn robot doesn’t make you better than me, Cas,” Dean spat.

“I never said it made me better than you,” Cas said a little irritated, “I only meant that I deal with things much more logically than you, Dean.”

“Oh for fuck sake Cas, feel something for once!” Dean scathed.

Cas moved almost on instinct, fisting his hands into the front of Dean’s jacket and throwing him into the wall behind him. Dean cursed as his head slammed against the concrete.

“You wanna see me angry, Dean? Because I can get angry,” Cas seethed.

“Oh stuff it, Cas. You’ve never been angry in your life,” he fumed, not even remotely resisting the hold that Cas had on him. Seeing that keeping him there wasn’t making his point at all, Cas uncurled his fingers from the front of Dean’s jacket, smoothed out the wrinkles he’d created and in one last act of defiance, slammed his fist into the cut of Dean’s jaw, knocking the older boy into the ground.

“Jesus Christ, Cas what the fuck?!” he cursed, doubled over and clutching his now bleeding face. Cas straightened up and breathed heavily.

“Sorry,” he admitted. “I just really needed to make my point.”

Dean groaned.

“You’ve done that.”

“Alright,” Cas yanked Dean along the hallway by the sleeve of his jacket, “we’ve got to talk to Charlie.”

Dean stormed into the news office and headed straight for Charlie’s office, Cas hot on his heels.

“They didn’t let us ask one single goddamn question!” he yelled, throwing open the door to her office. “Cas had his hand up the whole time and they didn’t look at us once - except to fucking smirk and sneer and answer some dumb freshman’s question about what his favourite colour was.” Cas nodded behind Dean, massaging his numb hand quietly. Charlie’s eyes widened at the sight of Dean’s split lip and the bruise slowly blossoming on his cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Dean, what the hell happened to you?”

Cas felt Dean’s gaze on him, but refused to turn to look at him.

“It is not of import,” Cas stated bluntly. “We want to print the story, Charlie. We need to print it. I’ve never been one to ‘jump the gun’ - I believe the saying goes - on things, but we need to throw them off their track.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed stiffly, “shake things up a bit.”

Charlie sat contemplatively for a few moments, still not sure whether to question further about Dean’s face. “Do you have enough proof to back up your claims?” she said as calmly as possible.

“Not....” Dean fumbled a bit, recognizing that she had a point. “Not yet, but we’ve got enough to cause a stir.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Winchester!” Charlie said standing up to get on his level. “That you two are going to make rash claims that get this newspaper and everyone that works for it disgraced.” She walked around to the front of her desk to get in Dean’s face. “If you fuck this up, and I get fired and they cut all the funding to this paper...” she shook her head as a warning, “I like you Dean, but I don’t know if I could forgive you for that.”

“Cas, what do you think?” Dean asked without looking at Cas, continuing his staring match with Charlie instead. Dean hadn’t met his eyes since their fight in the hallway fifteen minutes ago. Cas thought for a moment before answering.

In the midst of Richardson’s cruel words directed solely at Dean and Cas, he also had mentioned something about cutting all funding to the Post. Cas knew he would probably feel bad for his decision in the end, but if the paper was shut down next year, the least they could do is go out with a bang.

“I think we need to start printing new information again. And I think this is the right time to do it. Not too early before the election that everyone will forget about it, but not too late that word won’t get around. It would cut Richardson the deepest.”

“Is that what this is now, guys?” Charlie questioned, sounding uncharacteristically upset. “Do you want to attack him?”

Cas finally met Dean’s eyes darkly. If they still agreed on anything at this point, it was that attacking Richardson was exactly what they wanted to do. And so Cas answered Charlie’s question without an drop of remorse.

“I want to fucking destroy him.”

~

Before publishing the story, Dean had cooly suggested to Cas that he confirm everything once more with Meg. They hadn’t talked much in the past few days, but Cas admitted that Dean was right to want final confirmation. Cas set up a meeting with her for the Sunday before releasing the story.

“You look sad, Clarence.”

She looked sorrowful standing under the one small light next to the blackboard, its yellow hue throwing dark shadows to her round features.

“Am I a bad person, Meg?” he asked solemnly.

“Have you done something recently that’s made you feel like a bad person?” Meg answered knowingly.

“I hit Dean.”

“Damn, Clarence. Didn’t think you’d ever beat me to it.”

“Meg.”

“I don’t actually see what the problem with this is, but please, do elaborate. You know I love hearing about your relationship problems...” Meg’s words were dripping in sarcasm, but the insinuation was still there.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Cas grumbled.

“And that’s half the problem, isn’t it?” She grinned widely at him. “I know you too well, Cas.”

“I don’t think that being in a relationship with Dean would solve all of our problems.” he retorted.

“No,” Meg agreed, “but it’s an option that the rest of us don’t have, so...”

He’d always known the reason that Meg never took a liking to Dean, but it was still jarring to hear her state it so bluntly. In the eleventh grade he’d begun to realize her feelings for him, but they had always been one-sided, they both knew that. Still, she had a way of making him feel bad about things that weren’t necessarily his fault.

“Meg I-”

“No, don’t. I get it, it’s okay. But don’t make excuses to me. He’s different, you treat him differently. You make exceptions for him that you don’t with anyone else. You like him. He likes you too y’know.” She winked at him suggestively.

Cas rubbed at his neck, blushing profusely.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She smiled. “Trust me, I know the look.”

They sat on the desks in the empty classroom for quite some time before Meg interrupted the silence with a topic they had always vowed never to discuss.

“I know I never thanked you for what you did, and part of the reason is that for the past two years, I never saw it as a good thing. But in the end I think I’m glad for it. So, thanks. For being my little criminal,” she ruffled his hair jokingly.

“Meeeeeeeg.” Cas groaned, shuffling away from her.

“I’ve trained you so well.” she said, sniffling back fake tears. “Now what is it you need to know?”

~

They published the story the next day. Meg had confirmed that as far as she knew, what they had so far was true.

  
  


Cas had never been more wrong in his life, and one time he said the Cubs were going to win the World Series. As expected, all of the CREEP members denied the claims made. Insults were thrown at the Post, and Dean and Cas themselves. For some reason though, the backlash seemed ten times worse. The entire school now seemed to be against them, and rooting for Richardson. They could barely walk down the halls without getting dirty looks. Becky noted that Cas had lost more than half of his friends on Facebook, something that he couldn’t care much for, but still was a reminder of how much the school had begun to hate them.

The election came and went and Nick Richardson won in a landslide that broke all records before him at the college. Everyone was getting prepared for exams and no one put a second thought towards Dean and Cas’s tin-hat theories.

They were relentless in their claims though, and refused to be silenced. Charlie told them that if they kept making a stir, the paper would surely be shut down next year, if they weren’t already planning to do that already. Two days before the Easter break, Charlie got her verdict in the form of a memo sent from CREEP’s office, signed by Richardson himself.

Cas had never seen Charlie actually break down into tears before, and certainly not in the fashion that she did. The memo fell crumpled to the floor when she hauled Benny in by his broad shoulders and buried her head into his chest, silencing her sobs. He rubbed soothing circles to her back and stroked her hair gently.

“There, there. It’s alright darlin’. We’ll get our paper back somehow,” Benny said softly.  

Dean moved to Charlie, picking up the memo and pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. He beckoned Cas over to read the memo with him.

Memorandum

Charlie Bradbury BC Post

In light of the falsity of recent claims printed in the Bernstein College Post, and the blatant disregard for authority and the principle of law by it’s writers, the Post will not receive any school funding for the next term. The paper may rely on private funding but if you can no longer pay dues to keep the space, it is the strong suggestion of this administration that you shut it down completely.

Nick Richardson

Bernstein College Student President

 

Cas’s heart sank at the words. His hand unconsciously found Dean’s shoulder and he gripped him hard, touching Dean for the first time since throwing his fist into his face. Meeting Dean’s eyes, he found that all of the anger and rage that had been an ever present expression on both their faces was wiped clean. All that was left was a feeling of solemn defeat.

They’d lost.

Richardson had everything he wanted, and everything that Charlie had feared since the beginning had come to pass. Cas felt as though a heavy weight was pressing against his chest, the feeling that not only was this a crushing defeat for the entire paper, but that this whole year had been for nothing was like a tight constraint around his heart. The utter worthlessness of the one thing that still held any meaning to him hit him like a stack of bricks as his hand dropped from Dean’s shoulder and he shakily sat down in the desk behind him.

Dean cleared his throat nervously.

“There’s nothing I can say that’ll make any of this okay, Charlie. But I just wanted to say that I’m sorry anyways.”

“We both are,” Cas added, “I just wish there was some way we could make it up to you.”

Charlie let go of Benny only to wrap her arms around Cas and hold him tightly. He couldn’t help but hug her back equally as tight.

“I don’t want you guys to blame yourselves, okay?” she said pulling back and directing her words to Dean as well. “The only thing I want you to do is kiss and makeup because I don’t think anyone in this damn newsroom can deal with you two being mad at each other.”

The small amount of people still left in the office laughed in agreement. Even Dean chuckled a little, and the joke got a smile out of Cas. He didn’t realize that their argument had caused such an intense reaction with the rest of the newsies.

“I just... I can’t be here right now.” Charlie held back her tears and she fetched her purse from her office. “And come to think of it, I think we could all use a break. I’m gonna close down the office early today. Everyone can go home, I know you’ve got exams to study for and whatnot.”

The newsies began packing up their things and one by one, each of them came to give Charlie a pat on the back or a quick hug before leaving. It was a testament to her amazing leadership that they still stuck by her till the very end. Under anyone else, Cas thinks they probably would have jumped ship a long time ago.

Charlie and Benny left last, shutting off most of the lamps on their way out and Benny threw one last sad look at Dean before leaving him and Cas alone in the dim office. Cas dropped his head to fix his stare at his shoes, the feelings of defeat and loss slowly coming back to him in full force. He sensed Dean step in front of him and lean against the adjacent desk.

“Cas. C’mon man, look at me.” Dean tipped his head down in an effort to meet Cas’ eyes but he refused to respond to Dean’s wishes.

“We messed up, Dean. We really messed up. And it’s my fault.” Cas mumbled as Dean sighed sadly.

“Cas, don’t say shit like that.”

Cas pushed off his desk and walked around it to haphazardly throw some loose papers in his binder. “We didn’t have enough proof and we jumped the gun.” He sat down on the squeaky chair and rested his head in his hands. “I was so angry at Richardson for what he said and now our whole case is down the drain. No one believes us, no one is going to and there’s nothing we can do.” His initial anger turned to sadness. There wasn’t a part of him left that had any hope for the future of this story, or for the outcome of his life. The stress of past week started to weigh down on him. Stress from not talking to Dean, and stewing in anger over the whole fiasco, Meg’s words, and thinking about how much he fucked up this year. The last chance that he had to make everything great was gone.  

“Look at me. Cas. Look at me.” It hurt to meet Dean’s eyes, but he did it upon the reminder that there were only a handful of times left when he would have the chance to look up into the kind eyes of the boy he’s fallen so hard for and see nothing but caring and love. The expression he met was more of sympathy and regret now. Dean’s expressive green eyes often spoke louder than his words. “We’re gonna do this. We’re gonna get him. Do you still think we’re right? Do you think Richardson’s a crook?”

“Yes of course I do. He is,” Cas nodded.

“Then that’s all we need. We just need to keep believing that.” Dean flashed him an award-winning smile and Cas bought absolutely none of it. Non-partisan beliefs were what got them in this situation in the first place, and Cas was not going to make that mistake again.

“Dean, no. We need hard evidence and facts, and we need to stop letting our emotions get the better of us!” His voice got louder as he spoke, and threatened to crack on the last word.

“Then we’ll get some proof,” Dean amended quickly.  

“What’s the point?” Cas replied exasperatedly. “It’s too late, Dean, he won. It’s over.”

“It’s not over ‘till the fat lady sings, Cas.”

“I don’t even know what that means…” Cas muttered, dropping his gaze again and looked to the ground where his shoes are scuffing awkwardly against the white linoleum. He expected Dean to make some crack about his ineptitude with idioms, but Dean always managed to surprise him.

“It means that right now Richardson thinks he beat us. He thinks we’re done with the story and we’re gonna let him go. But Cas, the guy’s got no power right now. He’s just some undergrad with a cheap suit and a presidency founded on lies and corruption. When September hits it’ll be a different story, but Cas, we’ve got the whole summer, four months, to get undeniable proof and hard hitting facts. We’ve got time.”

Cas looked back up at him completely confused about what the summer could have to do with anything. “What can we possibly do in the summer?”

“What do you mean, we can do anything in the summer!” Dean exclaimed, sounding the slightest bit delusional, clinging on to last hopes for redemption.

“But I’ll be back in Chicago and you’re going home to your family in Lawrence. You’ve got to go on your annual road trip with Sam,” Cas lamented with a tone of finality. “We’re not even gonna see each other.” He didn’t add the ‘ever’ that was on the tip of his tongue because he didn’t know if he physically could. If it was never said out loud, then it couldn’t happen. What happens at the end of the school year just wouldn’t be real.  

Dean fiddled with the hem of his shirt, pulling at a loose thread. “Well… I was kinda thinking, I dunno. I mean, Sammy got that co-op job for the summer and he’s gonna be doing that the whole time so we wouldn’t be able to do the road trip. So, I guess I was hoping that maybe you wanted to… come with me instead?”

Cas was stunned into silence for a few moments, his lips parted and eyes wide. It was simultaneously the greatest and most terrible thing he’d ever heard Dean say. On one hand, he was glad of the fact that even after their fight Dean still cared about him enough to ask this, and on the other it made everything so much worse.

“R-really?” he sputtered.

“We could find out where Richardson’s people are for the summer and bounce around to different states. Hit ‘em when they’re not expecting it,” Dean said quickly.  

“You mean you… actually want to hang out with me? All summer?” Cas asked, genuinely a little confused. Dean looked just as confused at Cas’s statement.

“Jesus Cas, what do you think I’ve been doing since January? You think I’d have hung around you this much if I secretly hated you or something?” he responded, like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. Cas laughed sarcastically.

“Well, that’s been my experience in the past so I wasn’t really expecting much more,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Dude, weren’t you the popular kid in school or something?”

“Most people hung out with me because they thought I was smart and the girls thought I was ‘cute’.” Cas made air-quotes with his fingers. “Everyone stopped being my friend when they realized that I was kind of a loser. And, you know, gay.”

“You’re not a loser, Cas.” Dean shook his head. “You’re like my favourite person.” Cas gave him a smile at that, but he was pretty sure Dean noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So… you actually want me to go on a road trip with you? All summer?” Cas asked, his hopeful tone tinged with the same sadness running through their whole conversation.

“Hell yeah, man,” Dean replied enthusiastically, his eyes sparkled with intensity. “I mean, if you want to of course,” he added quickly, toning it down slightly.  

There was officially no way of worming him out of this now. They were finally going to have this awful conversation.

“I do,” Cas said quickly.

“Okay so lets-”

“But, I can’t.” He felt his heartbeat stutter a bit at the words. It wasn’t just going to be difficult. Telling Dean this was going to hurt, and was going to hurt both of them.

“Why not?” Dean asked worriedly.

“My family.” Cas started with the basics but he could tell that Dean didn’t quite understand yet.

“Oh, right yeah. I get it, you wanna stay with them. I understand, family is important and stuff and you haven’t seen them in a while so-”

“No that’s not what I meant at all. I’d much rather spend a whole summer with you but I’m fairly certain they’d much rather that I didn’t.” Cas cut him off quickly.

“Why not?” Dean frowned.

“I haven’t been… completely honest with you about the pretense that I was allowed to go to school under.” Cas paused, but Dean raised an eyebrow, urging him on. “Well um, my parents, when they found out I was, y’know umm…” he stopped and swallowed hard, trying to force the words out.

“It’s okay Cas, just breathe.” Dean said soothingly and Cas felt himself calm down slightly.

“Well by the time they found out I was gay, I had already sent in my acceptance to BC and first year’s tuition was paid.”

“Alright…”

“They didn’t want to let me go. They thought it would be bad for my mental health. I begged them to let me, and in the end I guess they didn’t want to lose the money that had already been spent, so we came to a compromise. Stay out of trouble. Come home on all holidays and reading weeks. And I’m not-” he stopped, looking fearfully at Dean’s concerned expression.

“You’re not what, Cas?” Dean asked, sounding almost as frightened as Cas himself.

“I’m not allowed to return for a second year,” he mumbled.

The silence in the room was deafening. Cas gripped the edge of his desk so hard he thought it might have left dents. Dean just stared at him with the most heartbreaking expression he’d even seen on anyone’s face.

“What?”

“I... I’m not coming back to school, Dean,” Cas whispered. “That was the agreement.”

Dean’s hands dragged through his tawny hair, pulling on the short strands aggressively. He turned away from Castiel, taking deep breaths and pacing between the desks.

“So that’s it then? They just gave you this one year of freedom as part of some sick twisted joke just to take it all away?! What are you going to do back home instead of college?”

He waited a long time to say it. Long enough for Dean to swivel back around to face Cas and step unnaturally close to him. Long enough for Dean to set his warm hands on Cas’s shoulders, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion and concern. Long enough for Dean to whisper the question one more time, the fear in his voice cutting deep.

And then he’d waited long enough.

“They want me to join the seminary. I’m going to become a priest.”

If they weren’t standing so close together, he probably would have missed the small shake of Dean’s head as he attempted to process what Cas was telling him.

“Cas, no.”

“Dean, please you have to understand-”

“Understand what,” Dean croaked, “that you’re throwing your fucking life away for some promise you made to a bunch of assholes who don’t give two shits about you?”

“Dean, I know this is going to screw things up with the Richardson story, and for that I am sorry but you have to know that if I had any idea that I would start this story with you and then have to leave before it’s conclusion I would’ve-”

“Wait, you think I care because this is gonna fuck things up with Richardson?” Dean cut him off questionly. Cas nodded unsurely. “Cas for someone so smart, you can be a dumbass sometimes.”

Cas frowned, squinting in confusion until Dean elaborated.

“I care because you are the best friend I’ve ever had, and the best person I’ve ever known and your family is going to drag you back to bible camp and they’re gonna take away everything that makes you... you.”

The silence that filled the the hollow office was interrupted only by the low hum of Dean’s desk lamp, it’s green light throwing dark shadows on his somber face.

“Jesus, Cas were you even gonna tell me?”

Cas finally broke, falling into Dean’s chest, no longer able to hold back the tears falling in streaks down his face. Dean’s arms wrapped around his back, pulling him in closer.

“Shh, Cas it’s okay. Just talk to me, man.” he whispered soothingly.

“I don’t know what to say,” Cas hiccoughed, clutching the back of Dean’s shirt.

Dark thoughts raced through his head about what his life would become if he went down this road. Before it was easy to imagine life in the Church, spreading God’s word, but now he had found other ambitions. He had other goals and more tempting desires and he wanted a life where those desires wouldn’t conflict with his work. If that was a sinful thing to want then so be it.

“I don’t want to become a priest,” he mumbled.

Dean breathed out a shaky, relieved laugh.

“Okay. We’re off to a good start then.”

Cas pulled out of Dean’s embrace and immediately regretted the decision. He crossed his arms instead, trying to mimic the feel of Dean’s warm hands.

“I don’t think my family would be too pleased if I told them that, though.”

“Cas you need to hear me on this, man. I’m all for family first, you know that. But sometimes you gotta do things, just because you’ve gotta do things. And your career, your life. That’s gotta be one of those things.” Cas nodded with him, understanding a little more where he was coming from. “Now do you still wanna get Richardson? Do you wanna make him pay for what he did?”

Cas considered it for a moment. They had gotten in over their heads with this story, they both knew that. Especially when it came down to the wire and they acted emotionally and without reason or logic. But their initial goal, to bring justice to the people that Richardson had wronged, still remained important to him.

“I do. But I want to do it right, and I want to do it logically, and I want to do it with enough proof this time.”

Dean nodded enthusiastically.

“I am with you on that 100% Cas. So my original offer still stands. I mean, would you be... at all interested in that road trip?” Dean asked uncertainly. Cas smiled at him unabashedly.

“I said that I was, Dean. My answer hasn’t changed in the past ten minutes.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dean smiled back. “So are you... are you gonna ask your parents then?”

Cas nodded solemnly.

“And if they say no.”

“Then I suppose they say no,” Cas shrugged. “But their decision won’t influence mine. This is something that I want to do, so I’m going to do it.”

Dean beamed at him and dragged him in for another hug. This one lasted longer than the last, something Cas was silently grateful for.

“Cas if things go south, and you get into real trouble... call me, okay? Promise me you’ll do that,” Dean urged, still holding him.

“I promise.”

~

He would have called. He would have. If they’d let him grab his phone before physically throwing him out the house and slamming the door in his face.

Luckily he’d managed to to snag his trenchcoat before his uncle Zachariah had hauled him out by his collar and dragged him to the doorstep. Deep in the pockets of the coat he’d found a restaurant mint from the Roadhouse, a business card from one of the CREEP members, four cents, and by some fucking miracle his credit card. Charlie constantly chastised him for never keeping his important cards in his wallet, but for once he was glad for his completely unorganized mind.

He made it to the bus terminal in some sort of trance, still not quite processing the downright refusal of his request. He’d expected they would say no. Perhaps hang their heads in shame and lament over what an awful son they’d raised. What he hadn’t banked on was that waiting until Sunday night to ask them would lead to disastrous consequences, solely for the fact that he was unaware that his extended family would be making a surprise visit. His Uncle Zachariah and his son Raphael were far crueler than his own family. Had they not have showed up only an hour after he’d told them his plans, and mere minutes succeeding in making his mother bursting into tears, the weekend would have turned out marginally better for him.

In the end though, when Zachariah suggested throwing him out of the house once and for all, he knew it was over. Like every moment he can remember from his childhood, his father simply hung his head and didn’t say a word as the acts of villainous men went unchallenged right under his nose. He had never seen it as harmful until this moment.

Then again, perhaps the indifference of good men is the greatest evil after all.

It was those questions and the search for answers that he would never find that kept him occupied through the eighteen hour trip back to Washington. He considered halfway through the trip that staying a couple days in Chicago and seeing if his family’s minds could be swayed was an option. But it was an option that rested on the notion of still retaining some measure of hope and faith in his family, for which he had none to give. His mind was driven only by the thought that he needed to be somewhere where he felt safe and welcome and the only place that came to mind was Washington.

And the only name that came to mind was Dean.

Castiel stood on the steps to Dean’s apartment, the cold rain making his shirt cling to him. The terminal where the bus had dropped him off was fifteen minutes from Dean’s house driving, but since he had no car and no bus fare, he’d made the thirty minute walk instead. It had begun raining about five minutes into his trek.

His hand hovered near the door, waiting for the courage to knock. Though he wanted nothing more than to be drawn into Dean’s warm inviting home, he felt guilty to drag him into his problems. It was a burden Cas thought he should bear alone. When his feelings of guilt did not subside he turned away and began pacing the stone walkway outside the house.

Regardless of his feelings toward his parents, he couldn’t deny that they had taught him manners, and how to act like a respectable adult. Showing up to someone’s apartment uninvited with nothing but the clothes on his back was not respectable in the least. On the other hand, his dutiful parents were the reason he was stuck in this situation in the first place. Perhaps this one time he should skip the niceties and ask for help from the one person who has never let him down.

At the first crack of lightning Cas gave up, rapped his knuckles on the dark wood of Dean’s front door, and waited. Mere moments later, the door creaked open to reveal Dean in his grey Henley and sweatpants clutching a bowl of cereal and looking unquestionably comfortable. Cas almost wishes he hadn’t come here and dragged Dean away from what was sure to be a relaxing, stress free afternoon. But surprisingly, the expression that marred Dean’s usually softer features was not one of anger.

“Jesus Christ, Cas what are you doing here?” Dean asked, his voice full of concern and alarm but above all, pity. Cas tried to process the mixture of feelings stirring uncomfortably in his gut but it just made it all worse.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he croaked, his teeth chattering from the cold rain. Dean set his bowl down on a side table to free up both his hands. Holding Cas by the shoulders he gently tugged him inside the warm house and shut the door behind them.

While Cas remained frozen, both from the cold still seeping into his bones, and the shock of what had happened, Dean seemed to be moving purely on instinct, as though friends showed up on his doorstep soaking wet and freezing cold all the time. Cas was only vaguely aware of being pulled into Dean’s bedroom and handed a soft towel and clean pile of clothes. He was even less aware that he was muttering two words over and over against under his breath until Dean gripped him tightly by the shoulders.

“Cas. Stop saying you’re sorry.” He pleaded.

So that’s what he was whispering.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“I don’t know what you think you need to be sorry for, but whatever it is, it’s not your fault.” Dean’s hands moved up to rub small soothing circles to the back of his neck and just behind his ears. “Now at some point I’m gonna need to know what happened, okay?” Cas nodded vaguely, already dreading the moment he would have to relay the entire horrible story to his friend. “But right now I need you to get out of these clothes because your lips are already blue, and you’re freaking trembling and I’m worried you’re gonna get hypothermia.”

Dean led him to the bathroom and turned the shower on to a luke-warm temperature. He instructed to let the water gradually get warmer, otherwise his body would go into shock, before leaving Cas alone to undress and move under the spray of the shower. Cas could immediately see why Dean didn’t throw him under steaming water. Even at a semi-warm temperature, it took him a couple minutes to get used to the heat of the shower pelting down onto his cold, clammy skin. When that became tolerable, he began turning the water up in small increments.

He only stayed in there for about a half and hour, but it felt longer. It felt like days. Or years. Decades that he stood under the spray of slowly warming water, listening to the rush of it hit his hunched shoulders and run down in front of his eyes. He let it wash away the grime of the bus and the sting of the cold rain still clinging to his skin. He pretended that it washed away how dirty he felt inside, but he knew it didn’t. The moment he felt the tears begin to fall, he dropped to a sitting position on the tile floor and hugged his knees tight to his body.

He knew that he would to have to leave this shower eventually and tell Dean exactly what happened, but for now he took comfort in breathing in the humid air under the spray of a warm shower where no one could see him break.

 


	6. Crowley

**Book Two: The Summer Nights Massacre**

_“A man is not finished when he's defeated. He's finished when he quits.”_

_Richard Nixon (December 11th, 1978)_

 

 

He woke up in a soft, warm bed unsure of how he got there, and the only conscious thought that dominated his mind was that everything smelled like Dean.

It clung to very pillows his head rested on and he nuzzled deeper into the one resting just by his head to immerse himself completely in the scent. He then realized that this must be Dean’s bed. Dean wasn’t in it though, that was disappointing. He was alone, wrapped in the navy sheets and he slowly urged himself to wake up fully.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, arranged the pillows to lean against the headboard of the queen sized bed and leaned against them. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as memories from last night came back to him vividly.

Dean had eventually wrestled the story out of him and he recounted each horrid detail to him until he had been too exhausted to continue. He apologized profusely for bringing Dean into this, but he simply brushed it off. It’s what friends are for, Cas.

He’d also insisted that Cas take his bed, and that he would be fine sleeping on the couch. Which would definitely explain the whole waking up in Dean’s bed thing. There was just one detail left that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure on...

“Riiiiiise and shiiiiiiine, baby bro. Gabe’s here to make everything better.”

So he wasn’t delusional. Gabriel had actually called Dean from Cas’s phone at some obscenely late hour last night and let them know that he had smuggled Cas’s things out of the house and would be boarding a plane in a couple hours to bring it to him in person.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until later,” Cas groaned, sliding back under the warm covers and pulling them over his head. Not that he wasn’t happy to see his brother, but he generally preferred sleep to dealing with Gabriel.

“C’mon, Cassy. I’m sure you’d love to spend all day wearing your boyfriend’s clothes in your boyfriend’s bed, but I didn’t lug this bag the whole way from Chicago for nothing.”

Gabriel dropped Cas’s stuffed overnight bag onto his chest, his laptop digging into his side. Cas groaned, sat up and threw the bag off himself.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and I’m not wearing his clothes,” he chided his brother, giving him a stink eye. Gabriel returned the glare with equal force as his eyes flickered down to Cas’s shirt.

Oh.

No it was Dean’s shirt. Dean’s softly worn, black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. It had a small hole right in the hem of it that Cas poked his finger through, avoiding Gabriel’s eyes.

“I didn’t have any clothes,” Cas mumbled, remembering the previous night when Dean had just handed him a pile of clothes after he left the bathroom and neither of them had questioned it.

“Well, now you do.” Gabriel smiled ruefully.

Cas pointedly ignored the bag that Gabriel had given him, and left the bedroom still clad in Dean’s t-shirt and sweatpants. Gabe followed him out grumbling something about being underappreciated.

Cas found Dean in the kitchen in his regular pyjama shirt, stirring what appeared to be a large mug of coffee. Dean turned on his heel, mug in hand, when he heard Cas enter the kitchen and set the warm cup into his hands with a smile the moment Cas approached close enough.

Cas took a sip of the dark liquid, moaning around the lip of the mug upon realizing that it was the best cup of coffee he’d ever tasted. He returned the smile in gratitude.

Dean’s hair was still mussed from sleep and there was a small patch of crisscrossed indents on one rosy cheek that must’ve come from sleeping awkwardly on the short couch. Cas immediately felt guilty for having slept so well last night in a bed that rightfully belonged to Dean.

“I could’ve taken the couch, Dean,” Cas protested.

Dean shook his head. “Don’t even worry about it, Cas. I was fine,” he assured him. “Besides, Gabe and I got to have a fun chat this morning.”

Cas rolled his eyes disdainfully. “Everything he’s told you is a lie.”

“Even the swimming pool incident in the second grade?” Dean questioned jokingly, as Cas blushed, fumed, and demanded to know exactly everything that Dean had been told.

The three of them had breakfast together and discussed how they would proceed. Cas often joked that Gabriel was his least favourite sibling, but he always came through in the end and they were both aware of that. Gabe decided that he wanted to stay in Washington for a couple more days at least so he was going to book a hotel room for a while. Cas smiled when Dean’s mouth dropped open, flabbergasted at Gabe’s complete lack of responsibilities that allowed him to simply drop everything and go where he pleased, whenever he wanted.

Gabriel had also brought Cas’s key card to his dorm with him, so Cas could now get into his dorm and retrieve his things. It was also a blessing having his laptop back. The only issue now was that his father would probably cut off his credit card pretty soon, and then he’d be left without any source of money for the foreseeable future. Obviously there was his savings account, which was rightfully his and was obviously entitled to, but the majority of that money was to be used to pay for college. But apart from that, he was, as Dean liked to say, shit out of luck. The topic came up while Gabe and Cas were doing dishes after dinner that night.

“Your heart still set on this road trip?” Gabriel asked him, scrubbing down one of Dean’s white dinner plates.

“Yes,” Cas stated after a couple moments of contemplation. “I mean, it’s what I fought for, isn’t it?”

“How are you feeling by the way?” Gabe questioned and handed him the plate to dry. “I mean Uncle Zach’s usually pretty bad, but I’ve never seen him get like that...” Gabriel’s expression turned dark at the memory of the argument. Cas too was reminded of the truly horrendous things that had been said.

“Honestly I’m... I mean I’m keeping it together. Part of me wants to reconcile with them, but mainly I’ve just accepted that they’re never going to come to terms with who I am. I don’t want to go back to an environment like that.”

Admitting it out loud solidified his position on the issue. He was still reeling from the whole weekend, but being back in Washington and talking things through last night with Dean, and now Gabriel being here, was helping a lot. Tomorrow he was going to show Gabriel around the school, and hopefully introduce him to Charlie and the newsies. Seeing them would be a comforting feeling too. There was just one last thing he wanted to do to officially cut ties with his parents once and for all.

“I know I kind of rebelled already by asking to return to school, but I still feel like I lost.”

Gabriel nodded solemnly but his expression quickly changed to one Cas more commonly saw upon his face.

“Well then, I guess we gotta do something to make you win,” he snickered. “Let’s buy some hookers with Dad’s credit card, Cassy.”

“Gabriel!” Cas exclaimed, laughing at his brother’s wild expression. “I’m not going to buy prostitutes, don’t be absurd.”

“Well you should buy something ridiculous with Dad’s money. Just as one last fuck you to the old man.”

Cas squinted thoughtfully down at the mug in his hands. It was the one that Charlie gave all the newsies after they finish their first story. Cas’s own was a dark navy, stumpy, but Dean’s was a brilliant red with a delicately curved handle. They both bore the BC Post emblem in white on one side, and their name on the other. Charlie loved giving little personal touches to everything she gave the newsies. Like the lamps, each mug was unique and original and she had them all emblazoned with the logo and monogrammed afterwards. Charlie poured her heart and soul into the school and the paper, and if there was one thing that Cas regretted more than anything, it was destroying her paper, and effectively ruining its reputation for the foreseeable future.

Last month a student who had written articles on and off for the paper finally joined officially and Charlie was heartbroken because they didn’t have enough money left for anything but essentials, and she couldn’t afford to get the student a mug. If there was some way he could pay Charlie back for all that she’d given him in the past year, and to make amends for what he had done in return for her kindness, he would do it in a heartbeat.

And that’s when it hit him.

“Dean!” Cas called, spinning on his heel and running out of the kitchen in search of the other boy, his heart pounding in his chest. He nearly crashed into Dean when they met at the entrance to the living room, but he grabbed onto Cas’s shoulders and held him there to stop him from keeling over.

“Where is the nearest office supply warehouse in Washington?”

After a couple moments of manically trying to explain to Dean and Gabriel what his plan was, Dean finally realized what he was getting at and became so excited with the prospects of it that he swept Cas into a hug so tight he was lifted off the ground for a couple seconds. Gabriel had sulked away muttering something that sounded like ‘not boyfriends’ my ass before exclaiming that he would be waiting in the car to go on this ridiculous mission.

The closest store that fit what they were looking for was a thirty minute drive so they used the time to make a list of all the things they needed to get.

“How many desks are in the office exactly?” Cas asked, tapping his pen against his lip.

“Wouldn’t a better question be how many need to be replaced?” Gabriel interjected.

“All of them.” Cas and Dean declared simultaneously.

“Okaaaay.”

“I’d say at least twenty-five. Let’s get thirty just in case. Besides, we’re going here to blow money, right?” Dean smirked.

“We’re going here to use up my father’s funds, yes. But we’re also going here to pay reparations to Charlie. I want to get good quality desks,” Cas explained.

“Then can we get rolly chairs?” Dean beamed excitedly.

“Yes Dean,” Cas smiled, “we can get rolly chairs.”

~

Due to the large size of their order, the manager of the store said that they could deliver half the items tomorrow, and when they received the rest of them they could be delivered by the end of the week. Cas agreed to the terms and placed the order. Gabriel was delighted at what they had rung the price up to, but Cas felt guilt stirring in his stomach. It had technically been Zachariah that had hurt him more than his father directly.

He confessed these feelings to Dean when they were curled up on his couch that night sipping hot tea. Upon seeing Cas’s dorm, Gabe decided he would forego the hotel room in favour of, as he had put it, wanting to ‘stir up shit on Cas’s floor the week before finals’. So while Gabe crashed in Cas’s room, Dean had offered to let Cas stay at his place until Gabe got over the excitement of living in college dorms. Or until he got Castiel evicted, whichever came first.

“I get why you feel guilty, Cas, but the guy’s a bastard. Zachariah yeah, but your dad too. Besides, it’s not like he can’t afford it,” Dean reasoned.

“I know,” Cas sighed. “But then why do I feel so awful?”

“Because you’re a good person,” Dean mused, grinning at Cas’s sheepish reaction to his words.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas smiled. “For everything.”

~

They met Gabriel outside the building to the newspaper office at 9:45 the next morning; fifteen minutes before the shipment was set to arrive. He was, mercifully, too tired to make any lewd remarks about Cas sleeping over at Dean’s and so the elevator ride up was peacefully quiet.

There were only a couple people in the office when they arrive. Becky, as always, sitting brightly at her desk near the front doors.

“Hey Cas, hey Dean!” she greeted them warmly. “How was your weekend?”

They exchanged awkward glances before Dean smiled back and remarked “revelatory.” Gabe decided to hang back and strike up a conversation with Becky as Cas and Dean made their way over to look for their editor.

Charlie was, as always, holed up in her personal office in the corner of the L-shaped room and wore an expression of relief and regret when she met Cas’s eyes.

“Hey guys.” she stood up and walked around her desk to pull them both into a hug together. “Are you fuckers finally talking to each other again?”

Cas and Dean chuckled at that.

“Yes Charlie, we’re talking to each other again,” Dean smiled and raised his eyebrows at Cas, tipping his head towards Charlie to indicate that he get on with the plan.

“Charlie, I umm. I bought you something over the weekend,” he started, capturing her surprised attention. “As an apology, but also as a thank you. This has been the best year of my life and so much of that is because of you, but I am also sorry that I ruined so many things for you. So I know it’s not much, but... here.” He unearthed a pen cup from his bag and handed it to Charlie. Just last week her old one had fallen off her desk and cracked and she hadn’t stopped complaining that her pens had all gone missing since.

“Aww, Cas,” she teared up, throwing a hand over her heart and accepting the gift warmly. “This is sweet, thank you.”

Dean smiled devilishly at Cas behind her. She was walking into it perfectly. As if on cue, there was a knock on her office door and a burly middle aged man with a clipboard stood on the threshold of Charlie’s office.

“I’m looking for a... Charlie Bradbury...” he questioned, waving the clipboard around.

“That’s me,” Charlie said, looking from Dean to Cas extremely confused.

“I need you to sign for this delivery.” He held out the clipboard to her, the pen dangling from a string affixed to the top of it.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, peering over the paper questioningly. Her eyes skimmed over the page as Cas and Dean exchanged a nervous glance. They hadn’t come to a consensus on how they thought she was going to react when she finally realized what Cas’s whole present was.

The gasp was an obvious one. She clutched her hand to her heart, her eyes wide as she kept reading the itinerary that listed every item they’d purchased at the warehouse. They hadn’t anticipated that she would throw her arms around the delivery man and scream excitedly into his chest before breaking down into sobs. The man robotically patted her on the back before Dean pried her off him and into his own arms.

“Shh, it’s okay Charlie,” he whispered and rubbed her back soothingly. Cas signed for the delivery and apologized profusely to the very confused delivery man.

“How can you guys afford this?” she finally asked, still clutching Dean tightly.

“It’s all Cas. It was his idea,” Dean said, smiling warmly at him.

Cas shrugged modestly. “I really wanted to get back at my dad and apologize to you, so this was just killing two birds in a bush with one rock.”

Dean and Charlie cackled loudly to Cas’s very confused expression.

“You almost got it, man,” Dean chuckled, wiping away tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.

Becky interrupted them then, sparing Cas any further embarrassment.

“Charlie there are some very cute, very muscular men at the door lifting heavy things. What are they doing here and can I keep one?”

The next few hours consisted of Charlie calling all the newsies to the office and getting them to clear out the entire newsroom to make room for all the new furniture. Everyone excitedly pitched in upon hearing about the renovations. There was a loud cheer when the delivery men brought in the boxes of cordless, sleek, conference room desk phones. Even Gabriel pitched in with the refurbishing and seemed to actually enjoy himself doing it.

A number of people’s desks got placed differently in the move. Cas’ was one of them. It had somehow wound up pushed right up against Dean’s so that the front of their desks were touching and when Cas looked up, Dean was sitting right across from him. Just like they always used to work.

After all the items that were being delivered today had finally come and been set up, the newsies that had stuck around finally pulled out the alcohol and rewarded themselves for a hard days work. Dean and Cas were sitting on their joined desks, almost touching but not quite moving in those two extra inches to press up against each other, when Gabriel made a surprising move.

“So, Ms. Bradbury, you seem to run a pretty good ship here if I may say so,” he complimented, flashing her a genuine smile.

“Well thank you. It’s much appreciated.” She warmly returned the smile.

“Now, I have a proposition for you.” Cas’s ears perked up as Gabriel reached into his wallet, pulled out a cheque and began writing on it. “I am finding that I quite enjoy this city, and think I’ve decided I want to stick around in it.”

Cas looked at Dean, taken back by Gabriel’s statement.

“Don’t look at me, I’m just as shocked as you,” he whispered. Gabriel simply continued with his speech to Charlie.

“One of my regrets is never attending college, but now I’m seeing how much Cassy likes it, and I figure I’m still young enough to try it out. This morning I talked to someone on the admissions board of this school and they said that with my high school grades being so awesome, we could probably work something out. And you know, I think I’d quite like to join this paper as well, Ms. Bradbury.”

“Seriously?!” Cas exclaimed, his eyes widening at his brother. Gabriel just ignored him and continued on.

“I’m going to give you this regardless,” he handed Charlie the cheque and waited for her sharp intake of breath, “but I was wondering if you would be willing to offer me a position.”

Charlie sat for a several long minutes, simply looking down at the money in her hand. Cas’s hand clutched at Dean’s sleeve tightly as he waited with bated breath for her answer.

“Thank you for this, Gabriel,” she started. “And I would love to give you a position on this paper, but I want you to know that we don’t buy our way in here. I’m gonna need a story before I accept this.” She handed the cheque back to him and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Any story?” Gabriel asked quizzically.

“It’s gotta be a good one,” Charlie conceded.

Gabriel stroked his chin and peered around the room until his eyes fell on Cas. A devilish grin spread upon his face as Cas gave a tiny whine at the back of his throat that only Dean could hear.

“Two nights ago Cas slept in Dean’s bed, wearing Dean’s clothes.”

Charlie, and half the newsies for that matter, gaped at them obnoxiously as Cas hung his head in shame. Then Charlie snatched the cheque back out of Gabriel’s hand.

“You keep giving me information like that, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

~

During the last week of April, while Dean and Cas were packing up to leave for their trip, Dean got a call from a blocked number explaining cryptically that he had some information for them. Clearly the man was trying to remain suspicious and anonymous, but he had a thick British accent and during their excessive study of all the members of CREP, they had noted that John Crowley was the only international student that worked for them, and that he had moved here from England four years ago.

They met him in the courtyard behind the Admissions building on campus, a much more credible place to meet than where Meg had dragged them to. He was waiting for them when they arrived.

“Hello boys. Wasn’t sure if you’d show,” Crowley said, sneering up at Dean and Cas as he was easily shorter than both of them.

“Why wouldn’t we come?” Cas squinted. Crowley scoffed at him.

“Because you’ve both been disgraced by your own damn paper. I didn’t even think you were writing this god awful story anymore...”

“Then why the hell would you call us?!” Dean pointed out. “If we’re so disgraceful, and this story is so awful then why the hell would you want to help us?”

“Because!” Crowley exclaimed. Dean raised his eyebrows, silently asking for a better answer. Crowley sighed and continued. “Because I’m leaving. This is my last year and CREP have been real bastards about everything from the very beginning. I figured, why not have my last act at this school be taking them down.” Dean nodded, accepting Crowley’s answer.

“Also I’ve... I’ve got a soft spot for Woodward. I always thought he was kinda cute.” He said the whole thing to Dean, ignoring the fact that Cas was standing right beside him. Crowley turned his heels and took them to a more secluded part of the park as Dean turned to Cas and shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay, Crowley.” Dean said after a few minutes after they had reached the shady corner of the park. “What do you want to tell us?” Crowley looked from Dean and Cas and after a moment finally answered him.

“Everything. I’m going to tell you everything about everyone.”

Cas took out his notebook.

~

What Crowley had given them was the epitome of ‘hitting the jackpot’. Not only were all of their suspicions of Richardson’s involvement in the Skye Room break in confirmed, but he gave them the names of the main seven people involved.

Watching Crowley swagger away, Dean and Cas sat down on a bench to absorb what they had just learned.

“So it was true all along,” Cas murmured to himself, almost in a daze.

“Did you ever doubt it?” Dean smirked and shook his head, lost for words.

“But we have proof. Real, honest proof. And now Richardson can’t deny it. We can publish all we want and it’s still going to be true no matter what he and the rest of CREEP says.” Cas’ face lit up with excitement at the prospect of finally taking Richardson down.

“Whoa, we still need the rest of these seven people to confirm what Crowley said so far. I mean, it’s great that he told us all of this, but how do we know he’s not just screwing us over? He could just be setting us up to publish all over again, and get us into even more shit with the university and the newspaper in more trouble too.” Cas deflated, chewing his lip at Dean’s words.

“Besides,” Dean continued, “I still think the bastard is hiding something. I mean did you see the look he gave me when I asked him if he knew anything else?”

Just before Crowley left, he did look as though he was struggling with a piece of information he wasn’t sure on giving them, but despite Dean’s urging he never let it slip what it could have been. Cas admitted that it was a rather suspicious thing to do, especially after giving away pretty much every secret already.

The two returned to Dean’s apartment to absorb what they had learned from Crowley, and how much of his information they were going to take at face value. Dean tossed his bag on the sofa and grabbed two beers from the fridge before throwing himself in the armchair by the TV. He opened the beers and handed one to Cas. Cas settled himself into the sofa with his notebook.

“Dean could I see your notebook? I want to compare your notes with mine, just so we’re 100% sure on the facts.” Dean took a long gulp of his beer as Cas waited patiently for him to hand over his notes. As a couple seconds passed, Cas became suspicious about Dean’s obvious delay.

“Dean. Your notes. Can I see them?” he restated. Dean swallowed loudly and clacked his teeth together. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Cas’s gaze.

“You do take notes, right Dean?”

“Pfffttt, of course I take notes Cas... what kind of reporter would I be if I didn’t take notes,” he replied with faux confidence.

“Show me your notebook then.” Cas glared at him and crossed his arms defiantly.

“I don’t have to do that, Cas.”

“Yes you do, Dean.”

Cas’s eyes flicked to Dean’s knapsack resting on the other side of the coffee table for a mere second, but that’s all it took to instigate a mad wrestling war for the green backpack.

Dean was closer, but Cas was faster and launched himself across the table to grab one strap of the bag first. Unfortunately it was quickly knocked out of his hands when Dean threw himself into Cas’s side. They crashed onto the floor, the bag flying a couple feet away from both of them. Dean had landed on his back, groaning as his head slammed into the hardwood floor. It gave Cas time to scramble to his knees and dig through the bag, pulling the notebook out of a side pocket.

He only saw the first page before it was snatched from behind him. Cas spun around quickly, knocking Dean back to the ground and climbing on top of him and reaching above his head where he was holding the notebook just out of reach. Cas’s assault left him in a vulnerable position and Dean easily knocked his legs out from under him and flipped them over, Dean grasping Cas’s hands by the wrists, and holding the notebook out of reach in his other hand.

Cas struggled against Dean’s hold, panting hard under him. The grip on his wrists was tight, but not bruising. As was the pressure from Dean resting on his thighs. It was actually... kind of nice, or at least parts of Cas started to think so. He scrambled up into a sitting position, jumping out of Dean’s grip.

“Damn it, Dean what it so awful in that notebook that you won’t let me see it,” Cas fumed, trying to keep his voice steady. Dean sat back on his haunches and frowned down at the book before throwing it the short distance to Cas.

“Fine, but you asked for it,” he huffed. Cas flipped open the book. “You have to start at the back,” Dean smirked.

Cas looked down, puzzled, at the book, and flipped to the back page. There was a tiny drawing on the left side of the notebook of a man that was clearly supposed to be Nick Richardson, but was so crudely drawn that he doubted anyone else would’ve picked up on it. The second to last page was another drawing of Richardson in almost the exact same position, but as though he had moved a tiny little bit.

“It’s a flip book,” Cas realized. “You turned your notebook into a flip book.”

Dean hung his head in shame, but perhaps it was to hide the tiny grin creeping over his face.

He flipped through the pages, moving the small animation along. Another figure quickly came into the drawing and he realized with a jolt that it was him. The tiny Cas figure moved towards the Richardson one and unearthed a long machete from somewhere and began repeatedly stabbing Richardson in the neck until the drawing fell dead to the ground in a comically dramatic display, complete with little x’s over the eyes, and a tiny tongue sticking out.

He tried, and failed, to stifle his laughter.

“You couldn’t think of a single thing better to use your notebook for?” Cas asked with no real venom in his voice and handed the small book back to a grinning Dean.

“I thought it was funny,” he shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t been keeping track of the information so far! I just haven’t been writing it in my notebook. And if you didn’t jump to conclusions I could have explained that ten minutes ago.”

Cas squinted at his smiling expression.

“Well then where do you write it?”

~

It turned out that Dean kept a private online blog in which he discussed each interview they’d had so far. None of the entries were posted publicly, he simply used it as more of an online archive of his thoughts. Most of the entries had funny little reaction images to go with them. Cas thought it was an incredibly inventive way of telling their story. It allowed for a lot more freedom that Charlie gave them at the paper.

“What if we made one of these blogs for the summer?” Cas suggested the moment the idea crossed his mind.

“Really? Honestly, I thought you’d think this was the dumbest thing,” Dean marveled. Cas shook his head.

“No, I think it’s really cool. And since we’re not staying in Washington for the summer, it’ll be the easiest way to post any new information. Plus, we won’t be getting the Post into any more trouble.”

Dean nodded along with him, clearly liking the idea.

“Alright, man. Let’s do it.”

> _____________________
> 
> Thursday April 25th, 2013 18:46:17
> 
> I’m Castiel Woodward and this is not jackass. Dean Winchester and I are students at Bernstein College and reporters of the school paper the Bernstein College Post. This is a blog cataloguing mine and Dean’s investigation of the the crimes committed by the Conservative Realist Electoral Party, with a particular focus Skye Room break-in earlier this year.
> 
> To those that are reading this that attend college with us, we would first like to make a statement. We made some recent claims that landed our paper in a significant amount of trouble, and were declared by CREEP to be false. While we regret tarnishing the reputation of our paper, Dean and I, as well as our editor, stand by our claims one hundred percent. Which is where this blog comes in.
> 
> We are about to embark on a cross country trip to track down every CREEP member that was involved in this disgusting incident and ask them to confess to their crimes. Our goal is the search for justice, for justice sake. We reserve all bias towards the parties involved as it has clouded our search for the truth in the past.
> 
> We have included a post listing all the things we know so if you haven’t already been following the story in the Post, you can view the information there. Unless you have explicitly stated you would like to be kept anonymous, we will not be changing any names of the people we have interviewed.
> 
> As we learn more information, we will be posting it here.
> 
> On a more personal note, in an interesting turn of events, Gabriel finally asked Dean if he could sublet his apartment over the summer. I knew that Gabe had wanted to since he saw the place, but I didn’t think he would ever actually get around to asking him. Dean of course made a fuss about it but eventually agreed. As long as Gabriel doesn’t trash the entire place I think this situation will work out well for everyone.
> 
> \- Cas
> 
> Thursday April 25th, 2013 19:08:49
> 
> If Gabe gets a single fucking scratch on any of my stuff I’m gonna run him over with the Impala.
> 
> \- Dean
> 
> ______________

Dean and Cas left the next morning.

Their first stop was to see a member of CREP in Annapolis, Maryland. They had found out where most of the CREP members were during the summer from Crowley, and so Ehrlichman was the first stop on their trip, for proximity reasons alone - it was only a forty minute drive from Washington. They arrived at his house just before 11:00. His parents graciously invited them into their home and seemed to be much kinder people that Azazel himself who, upon realizing what they were here for, tried to kick them out by throwing whatever items were within reach at their heads.

It was only when they told him that they knew everything already that he dropped the stone coaster he was holding and flopped down onto his couch.

“We’re all fucked, aren’t we.” Cas moved around the couch to look him in the eyes and nod. He shook his head in dismay. “Who ratted us out?”

“Crowley.” Dean answered. Cas knew that he said they could use his name when they wrote the article, but he hadn’t mentioned whether they could tell his co workers about what he had told them.

“That mother fucking British cocksucker-”

“Azazel! Language!” His mother called from the kitchen.

“Sorry, ma,” he answered her. Cas was humored by the exchange, but a small part of him was saddened. Not a lot of time had passed since the fallout out with his family, and it still hurt to know that most parents loved their children regardless of who they were and what they did. “Fine, so you know everything already. Why are you here?”

“We just wanted you to confirm it,” Dean grinned. “And I think we can safely say that you just did. So thank you for your time, we’ll be leaving now.” Dean and Cas began to leave when Azazel spoke again.

“What’s gonna happen to us. To CREP I mean.” His hardened expression had slipped from his face, and whatever amount of humility he had left was the only thing left.

“When the story comes out, and if everyone finally believes us, Richardson will likely be impeached,” Dean said with a note of finality. “The rest of you will either be put on academic probation or expelled.” Azazel hung his head defeated, and Dean and Cas showed themselves out.

_________________

 

> **Friday May 1st, 2013 08:32:37**
> 
> Breathe in that midwestern air. Aaaahhhhhh.
> 
> Just realized that y’all don’t know what Cas looks like so here’s a pic.
> 
> What a dork. Anyways, we hit the road again last night. Our first talk with a CREEP member was successful, but Cas had worried that the rest wouldn’t be. I tried to reassure him but the guy is strung tighter than a banjo. So to keep the stress down we’ve been stopping at friend’s places along the way. Sometimes it’s just nice to wake up in an actual bed instead of the Impala. Plus, the home cooked meals are a nice change too.
> 
> We’ve started getting some comments on these blog entries, so that’s been interesting. Y’all need to tone it down sometimes. Also no, anon2548, Cas is not gonna don the trenchcoat and ‘investigate your nether regions’ so stop asking.
> 
> But some of you are asking, what’s the point of all this. What’s the point of this trip. And honestly guys, I couldn’t tell you for certainty what it is anymore. I mean all this started out as a way to get Richardson, and bring him to justice for the crimes he committed. And we’re still trying to do that, but I also think maybe it’s become something more. I don’t even know, I’m freaking terrible at explaining stuff like this, but I think maybe we’re searching for a little bit of peace. Or acceptance that the things we did to find that justice was right. Maybe it’s confirmation that we are good people, and we can do good things.
> 
> Or maybe we’re just making it up as we go.  
> ___________________

  



	7. Winchester

 

It was late June when the reached the part of the trip that Cas was most excited for; they were going to visit Dean’s family in his hometown of Lawrence, Kansas.

Dean had called a few days back to ask if they could spend the week. Mary, Dean’s mother, had been more than generous and said they could stay for two if they wanted. Dean’s younger brother Sam was also very excited to see his brother, as Dean had not been home since reading week in February.

When they pulled up into the long drive way, a lanky teenage boy with floppy dark hair came bounding out of the house and ran up to the car, tapping at the glass of the drivers side window. Dean turned off the car and edged opened the door so as not to hurt the boy.

“Sammy!” Dean cried, throwing his arms around him and confirming Cas’s suspicions that this was in fact Dean’s brother. Cas climbed out of the car as a thin blonde woman descended the front steps.

“Mom,” Dean breathed, more mouthing the words than saying them.

Had Dean not called her by name, Cas would have guessed it anyways, for there was no one else she could possibly be. Her hair was perhaps slightly blonder, and her eyes more hazel than emerald green, but the same brightness radiated out of both of them. They wore the same toothy grin when Dean wrapped his arms around her waist and held tightly. Cas had to look away after only a few seconds, not wanting to intrude on their moment, but also for fear of thinking about his own family situation. He had a feeling this specific trip might bring out a number of feelings of regret.

“Cas?” his head snapped up at the sound of someone calling his name inquisitively. Sam was looking at him over the top of the Impala, wearing an inquisitive half grin. Cas nodded happily.

“And you must be Sam.” Sam smiled in confirmation.

They collapsed into fits of laughter when not a moment later they both simultaneously stated “Dean’s told me so much about you.”

“Yeah well, Dean’s a loner so he’s got no one else to talk about,” Sam teased. Dean made an indignified noise and finally broke away from his mother. Cas laughed.

“Dean has more friends than anyone I know,” Cas declared, to Sam’s clear surprise. Then Sam leaned across the top of the car, his floppy hair falling in his eyes as he beckoned Cas closer.

“Well, how am I supposed to know that if he only ever talks about you,” he whispered, giving Cas a deliberate smirk. Sam and Gabe would probably get along really well if he kept up with remarks like that.

Thankfully they were interrupted by Dean introducing Cas to his mother.

“Hello Ms. Winchester. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Cas shook her hand.

“Please, call me Mary,” she beamed up at him.

The four of them moved into the comfort of the Winchester home, Dean and Sam carrying their bags behind them. Dean hung back in the kitchen to help Mary with a few things and, Cas suspected, to say a much longer hello, while Sam excitedly gave Cas the grand tour of the house. It wasn’t a large house, not nearly as big as his old home in Chicago, but it was warm and inviting, and it was everything the Winchesters needed.

Sam went through the kitchen and living room first, citing these as boring and that Cas could’ve figured that out for himself, and then he dragged him upstairs.

“This, is my room,” Sam smiled, showing off the small bedroom excitedly.

“It’s nice,” Cas grinned back. It wasn’t the most traditional teenage boy’s bedroom, but from what he had been told of Sam, it suited him extremely well. He was about to mention the large maps adorning the walls, but a small picture frame caught his eye first.

“Are these your friends?” he asked, pointing to the photo of three people at what looked to be a carnival. Sam was in the middle, a pretty blonde girl holding cotton candy was to his left, her arms thrown around his shoulders. To Sam’s right was a short Asian boy, also holding cotton candy and leaning into Sam grinning happily.

“Yeah! This is Kevin, he’s my best friend from school.” Sam pointed at the other boy in the photo. “And this is Jess. She’s... she’s another friend of mine.” He introduced Jess with an odd tone of voice, noticeably different from the way he had mentioned Kevin. A small smile crept on his face as he looked down at the photo.

“Just a friend?” Cas offered.

“She’s his giiiiiirlfriend.”

They spun around to find Dean smirking at Sam from the doorway.

“Oh my god, Dean. No she isn’t,” Sam balked, stepping away from the photo and haphazardly rearranging papers on his desk, pointedly ignoring Dean and Cas’s questioning stares.

“But you waaaaant her to be,” Dean teased again.

“Dean, don’t be an asshole...” Cas chided him, looking sympathetically towards him. Dean gaped open mouthed at him before turning into his own room in a huff.

“My own best friend picking my brother over me...” he mumbled as Sam and Cas followed him through the doorway. “What is this world coming to...”

Dean clicked his bedside lamp on as Cas stepped into the slightly larger bedroom. He’d been in Dean’s bedroom back in Washington before, but there was something exhilarating about visiting his childhood bedroom. Dean had apparently taken most of his things with him to college as the only things left in this room were items a much younger boy would own. A baseball bat was leaning in one corner beside a small table on which sat a catcher's mitt. The walls were a soft blue colour had obviously faded over time, but still complimented the dark navy drapes that hung over the tall window. Dean had a couple framed photos on his desk as well, but they were clearly taken a number of years ago when the two brothers were much younger.

“I like it, Dean. It’s very you.” Cas gave him a small smile which he returned in full force.

“Awesome,” he grinned. “Alright, mom’s got apple slices with peanut butter downstairs. Your favourite, Sammy. Go wild.”

Sam bounded out the door in excitement but Dean held Cas back for a quick minute.

“Hey is this... I mean, are you cool, man?” he asked hesitantly, biting his bottom lip worriedly.

“Dean, this is wonderful,” Cas assured. “Sam is every bit amazing as you described, and has anyone ever told you that you look so much like your mother?”

Dean laughed loudly and clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder, pulling him out the door. “Was that an insult?” he jokingly echoed from their conversation months ago.

“Not even close.”

~

Their happy demeanor continued throughout the week. Mary was incredibly welcoming and lovely, and Sam and him got along famously. On their last day there, Cas even pulled out all his theology textbooks and Sam and him had sat on the living room couch and poured over research all evening. They even asking if they could eat dinner sitting right there with all their books open that night. Dean had berated and teased them the whole time about it, and at one point took out his phone to snap a picture of them deep in conversation with the textbooks splayed over their laps. He said he was going to post it on the blog to show their followers how geeky they were, but he decided against it after looking down at the photo for a long time.

“I just... I think I’m gonna keep this one for myself,” he mumbled quietly when asked about it. Sam rolled his eyes and gave Cas a look that he felt he should know what meant, but wasn’t too sure about the inclination. Sam had been giving him little knowing glances like that all week, but Cas just felt like he was completely missing out on some joke.

He was about to question Sam’s glance when a loud quick knocking sound came from the front door and two young teenagers burst through it, without waiting for someone to answer.

“Sam!” they cried together, their eyes bright with excitement. Cas recognized them as the two kids from the photo on Sam’s desk.

“That new open-all-night gourmet pizza place is opening tonight at 11 and my mom can get us in for their special one night only deal!” the boy exclaimed. Kevin, if Cas remembered correctly.

“She says that we should bring as many people as possible,” the girl Cas assumed was Jess added. “Oh hey, Dean.”

“Heeyyy Jess,” came Dean’s sultry reply. Cas knew he was doing just to piss off Sam, but the small part of him that responded to every one of Dean’s flirtations with extreme jealousy came back in full force.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” Jess said turning to him. “I’m Jess, Sam’s friend. And this is Kevin. Also Sam’s friend,” she added as a second thought, gesturing to her friend.

“Hello Jess, Kevin. I’m Castiel, I’m a friend of Dean’s from college,” he nodded to them warmly. Despite his very short lived feelings of jealousy, he couldn’t honestly see an immediate reason to dislike the young girl. She was incredibly sweet.

“You guys should come too!” Kevin suggested. “My mom said the more people the better.”

Cas looked at Dean and raised his eyebrows in question.

“Hey man, I’m down if you’re down,” Dean shrugged.

“Well I would love to go, then.” Cas smiled at them. “What exactly is this place...?”

~

It turns out that gourmet pizza was a new fad that was quickly spreading through Lawrence. From the menu, gourmet pizza appeared to be a pizza that was topped with ridiculously high class dishes. There was a caviar pizza, an octopus pizza, gorgonzola and sage, the absurd list went on. The difference about this place was that not only did it serve ridiculous food, but it was open at ridiculous hours. 11PM - 5AM, because some people just need their late night gourmet pizza fix, apparently.

Dean of course embarrassed everyone on purpose by asking if he could have a pepperoni pizza, but he ended up splitting a ‘vodka tossed heirloom porterhouse steak pizza’ with Cas. Sam, Jess and Kevin split one too, which was for the best since the pizzas were roughly thirty dollars each.

“You realize we’re spending sixty dollars collectively on pizza tonight, right?” Dean asked Sam scathingly.

“I do not understand the appeal of this place at all,” Cas agreed, nodding along with Dean’s disappointed stare. “It isn’t even that good.”

“And the flavours don’t make any sense.”

“How are restaurants like this popular?”

“Do people really come to these places?”

“Why-”

“Oh my god guys, please shut up,” Sam groaned. “If you don’t want to be here, just leave.”

Jess and Kevin grumbled in agreement.

“Ugh, can we?” Dean motioned at the waiter to come over and asked for the cheque.

“Together?” the young waiter asked. Dean nodded to Cas’s surprise.

“Dean, I can-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it man. I’ve got it,” he protested and handed the man forty dollars. Cas met Sam’s gaze at saw the same expression from earlier mirrored there. He pointedly looked away, flushing in embarrassment at the sudden realization about what Sam was implying.

“Alright Cas, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

They bid them goodnight, and Dean handed Sam the keys to the Impala, scolding him to not stay out too late, don’t drink and drive, and make sure his friends got home safe.

“Cas and I can just walk home.” Cas ignored Sam’s smug stare as they finally left the absurd restaurant, breathing the fresh air deep into their lungs.

Dean decided to drag him along the scenic route to get back to the Winchester home, which just happened to be along a beautiful canal, lit by glowing lamps that reflected brightly along the rippled surface of the water.

“This place makes me hate cities,” Cas admitted once they had stopped to lean along the railing where the canal widened into a bay.

“Mmm, if there’s one thing I miss about this place, it’s the scenery,” Dean said softly beside him. “And y’know, Sammy and Mom.”

Cas chuckled quietly at his addition.

“I think they miss you a lot too Dean.” he whispered back.

~

They slipped through the side door of the house decently late that night. Cas was sleeping on the couch in the living room so Dean left him on the main floor, saying a tender goodnight and then creeping upstairs. He shoved the fluttery, happy feeling that the walk with Dean had given him down into some crevice of his heart for safe keeping. Dean’s jacket was still draped over his shoulders where Dean had placed it after Cas involuntarily shivered and admitted that he was cold. Cas, with a small sense of regret, shrugged it off and set over the back of the large armchair in the living room. He quickly brushed his teeth, threw on his pyjamas and then shuffled back into his make-shift bed, clicked off the table lamp and nestled into sleep.

Cas would not describe himself as a ‘light sleeper’, but it’s difficult to not wake up when a very loud someone smashes through the back door and stumbles through the kitchen. At first he thought it may have been Sam coming home, but he quickly remembered that Sam had come in the side door only ten minutes after Dean and him. The clock on the wall read 3:30AM, about two hours after he’d fallen asleep. His sleep-fogged brain jumped to one last conclusion. Intruder. He shot up from the couch, scrambling for the light and something - anything - he could grab to defend himself with. The iron poker resting on the mantle of the fire place seemed like a good enough weapon.

“Mary!” it was a man’s voice that shouted from the living room. “Mary!” he repeated, a little louder. Cas was completely caught off guard. A burglar probably wouldn’t know the names of the people’s house he was robbing, let alone yell them at the top of his lungs to announce his presence to the entire household. Whoever the intruder was, he had to know the Winchesters.

“Sam! Mary!”

Another crash came from the kitchen, a muffled groan accompanying it. Cas stiffened in fear, his heart pounding in his chest as he raised the fire poker defiantly in the direction of the kitchen. He heard loud footsteps dragging across the floor coming nearer to him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when upon hearing softer footsteps descend the stairs and turned to meet Dean’s mother wearing a mixed expression of regret and sadness. He was overcome by how much Dean resembled his mother as they both bore the same expressive green eyes. Mary’s were far less familiar, but had a kind of motherly softness that resembled Dean’s eyes. It was something he was incredibly grateful for when she gently lowered his hand and took the poker from him. Her hand came up to stroke a thumb across his cheekbone, calming his nerves and settling his fear. No amount of Dean’s praises could have prepared him for Mary’s absolute gentleness and caring.

He didn’t even notice that anyone else had joined them until he felt a hand rest on his shoulder and pull him further from the entrance to the kitchen. He leaned instinctively into Dean’s touch, but his expression held none of the warmth that his mother’s did. Instead it was fixed darkly on the figure now standing in the doorway of the kitchen. A man in his early fifties leaned drunkenly into the frame of the doorway, squinting to try and make out the three figures staring back at him.

“Dean?” the man questioned. “What’re ya doin here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Dean replied, leaving no hatred out of his voice. Cas was at a complete loss as to who this man could be, why he had a key to the Winchester house, or how he knew Dean and Mary. It was only Sam’s arrival onto the scene that put the last piece together.

“Dad?” the younger Winchester said incredulously, barely above a whisper. Cas’s head whipped back around to Dean who reluctantly met his gaze.

My dad died a couple years ago.

Dean’s words from their conversation months ago rang in his head. Either his father had miraculously come back from the dead, or what Dean had told him was a lie. In fairness, he could see why Dean considered his father to be ‘dead to him’, but he had sounded pretty literal when he told Castiel the fate of his father.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean’s father mumbled, looking at Sam fondly who did not return the expression in kind.

“It’s Sam,” he spat. Dean looked to his little brother, shining in pride. “And I think you should answer Dean’s question. What are you doing here?”

The next several minutes consisted of John trying to drunkenly explain himself before eventually collapsing to the ground, just inside the living room. It took the four of them to haul him to the couch, effectively taking away Castiel’s previous sleeping place. It was the first thing Mary apologized for once they were all seated around the kitchen table.

“Don’t apologize Ms. Winchester, it’s not your fault,” Cas said sympathetically, smiling at her from across the small wooden table.

“Cas can crash in my room, we’re leaving tomorrow anyway,” Dean offered, looking darkly into the living room.

“Alright boys,” Mary sighed, standing up and yawning. “Get back to bed, and try and get some sleep. You’ve got a long drive ahead in the morning, sweetheart.” She pressed a kiss to Dean and Sam’s cheeks before pulling a startled Cas into her arms for a hug.

It was such a stark contrast to the affection that his own family displayed - or lack there of - that it left Cas stunned for a moment, fighting back the tears that threatened to come every time he thought of the state of his own broken home. And though he was set on asking Dean for an explanation the moment they were alone, he could already imagine the darkness that the figure that snored loudly in the Winchester’s living room had brought upon this family, and yet it could not dampen the bright kindness that shone from the warm hearts of Mary and her sons.

They bid their goodnights to each other, the two brothers hugging at the top of the stairs, saying silent apologies in the sad expressions, and then Dean and Cas were finally left alone. Dean shut his bedroom door quietly behind them and sagged against it, the back of his head knocked into the door. Neither of them said anything for a while until Dean finally broke the excruciating silence.

“I would have given anything to not have you see that,” he whispered. Cas stood up from the spot he had taken on Dean’s bed to stand in front of the light haired boy.

“Dean... I would have given anything to not have you see that.” he whispered back, completely distraught. Dean’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No one should have to deal with that, and  definitely not with the familiarity of which you and Sam both handled that situation,” Cas explained. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?”

Dean let out the breath he was holding, reluctantly meeting Cas’s sad eyes. “I tell people that my father is dead so that I don’t have to explain the truth. It’s a long story and most people don’t want to hear it,” he stated bluntly.

“I want to hear it,” Cas countered empathetically. “I want to know why my best friend lied to me about his family when he knows what I’ve been through with mine. I want to know why you don’t trust me.”

“It’s not that, Cas,” Dean stepped forward, meeting his eyes again. “You’ve gotta know I trust you, man. But some things I just... I can’t. And it’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t damn well know how.”

His voice broke at the last word and Cas moved forward to wrap his arms around Dean’s broad shoulders, holding him in a tight hug, similar to the one he got when he showed up on Dean’s doorstep after Easter.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he soothed. “You don’t have to tell me now. You’re tired, I’m tired. Let’s just... go to sleep.”

Dean nodded thankfully, pulling back from their embrace. The crawled into the double bed together, neither of them mentioning the close quarters they were now sleeping in. Cas could feel that beside him, Dean was still wide awake, even after twenty minutes. While Cas wanted to stay awake to comfort his friend, he couldn’t stop sleep creeping slowly into his mind, begging him to let it overtake him. It was only when Dean reached a hand up to card softly though his hair and quietly urged him to go to sleep did he slip into unconsciousness.

~

He wouldn’t define it as cuddling. They were not cuddling, okay? They just weren’t. Sure, Dean’s head was resting on Cas’s pillow, his lips pressed into Castiel’s dark head of hair. And the way that Cas’s hand was clenched tightly in Dean’s loose t-shirt suggested there was a good chance that Cas was the one who had  pulled them that close. Of course not negating the possibility that Dean was the one keeping them there, judging from the arm Castiel could feel wrapped around his side, and the hand pressed between his shoulder blades, but they weren’t cuddling.

“Did my dad show up drunk in the middle of the night, or was that some terrible dream?” Dean whispered into Cas’s hair.

Cas jumped, he hadn’t realized Dean was awake and probably had been for some time now. Not that he should have been surprised, it wasn’t likely that Dean had got much sleep last night after his father showed up.

“I’m sorry, Dean. It wasn’t a dream,” Cas sighed. Dean hummed and pulled them a little closer together. Cas’s eyes fluttered at the change in position that brought their chests practically flush against each other, relishing the small moment of peace they had found in the chaos of last night.

“I guess I should have figured that out from the fact that you’re sleeping in my bed. Can’t really think of another reason,” Dean huffed a small laugh, sounding a little sleepier than before. Cas felt sleep crawling back over his senses and warmth seeping into his skin from the points of contact between their bodies. He blamed his semi-unconscious mind for the words that came tumbling out of his mouth next.

“That’s the only reason you can think of?”

Upon realizing his insinuation, Cas froze and pushed back a little from Dean to meet his wide eyes and parted lips.

“I just meant that, umm, in theory there are... other situations that... yeah,” Cas coughed awkwardly. Dean opened his mouth to respond and was thankfully (on Cas’s part) interrupted by a knock at the door. They bolted up in bed, Dean’s hand finding Cas’s forearm and gripping tightly in fear.

“Dean? Can I come in.”

It was Sam. Dean’s hand loosened on Cas’s arm and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah Sammy, c’mon in.”

Sam opened the door slowly and his tall lanky figure ducked into the room and shut it quietly behind him. His expression was etched in worry.

“Dad’s waking up and I know that Mom never asks for help with this stuff, but I think she needs it this time,” Sam said timidly. Dean untangled himself from his sheets, and by extension Castiel, and swung his feet to fall flat on the floor, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and groaning.

“All right, here’s the plan. Sammy, I want you to take Cas, go out the back door, get in the Impala and just drive.” He ignored their sounds of protest. “I don’t care where you guys go, just get out of here. I don’t want you to see this. Either of you.”

He spoke the last words to Cas, meeting his eyes solemnly. Cas would have argued further but the pleading expression he found there made him understand that while he could offer some peace in the event of distress, now was the time for action. And there were some things that Dean needed to resolve on his own.

Sam drove Cas into town, the windows of the Impala rolled down and music blasting the whole way. Dean had begrudgingly handed him the keys before pushing them out the back door and told them to have some fun and not worry.

They were currently parked on a main street in the small downtown area of Lawrence deciding where they wanted to go first and trying not to feel bad about leaving Dean behind.

“I think he’s trying to make amends because he feels guilty for leaving you and your mother and going to college,” Cas sighed.

“Oh I know he does,” Sam huffed, shaking his head sadly. “We practically had to bribe him to go two years ago.”

“Dean didn’t want to go?” Cas asked, particularly surprised at this revelation.

“He... well he...” Sam was clearly picking his words carefully. “He wanted to go to college, but he didn’t want to leave. There was just so much going on that he thought it would be too selfish.”

“That is so typically, Dean.” Cas shook his head disdainfully. “He’s the most selfless person I know, and yet he thinks so little of himself.”

“That’s what I told him! He was still such a bitch about the whole thing...” Sam exclaimed, rolling his eyes in a very brotherly fashion.

“Do you think he regrets going?” Cas asked sadly, playing with the hem of his shirt. There was a moment of silence between them until Cas looked up to meet the most scathing expression he’d ever seen on a person’s face. Dean would most likely describe it as Sam’s Bitchface #13. “What?”

The expression intensified.

“Sam why are you looking at me like that. It is a valid question to ask given the information you’ve presented me with.”

“No it’s not, because I can think of one damn good reason he doesn’t regret it for a minute, and it’s sitting in this car,” he stated with a knowing grin.

Cas looked away, rubbing his neck and feeling his face flush.

“Sam don’t be ridiculous. Dean doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“Oh my god, you’re both clueless,” Sam groaned. “Okay, whatever. Mom says I’m not allowed to intervene and that you guys have to figure this out for yourselves, so I’m gonna shut up.”

Cas gaped at him from the passenger seat.

“You and your mother talked about Dean and I?” he balked.

“Ohhh yeah.” Sam smiled gleefully, leaving Cas to wonder exactly how many people were conspiring to set them up. He tried to ignore the happiness blossoming in his chest because of it, but it stayed with him throughout the day.

Sam first took him to a frozen yogurt place because Cas had admitted that he’d always wanted to check it out, but both Dean and Charlie had scoffed at the idea, claiming that plain old ice cream was much better. The entire store was bright pink, and the girl behind the counter had happily explained how the concept of self-serve yogurt worked when he admitted that he had never been to an establishment like this. Sam got the green apple sorbet and topped it with a number of small candies. Cas went with a chocolate and vanilla swirl and covered the top with Reese’s Pieces.

Next they went to the small library in town and spent a couple hours going through the local history section. Apparently Lawrence had a reputation for being a hotspot for ‘supernatural’ occurrences and the town was littered with old ghost stories and urban myths.

They stopped at Sam’s favourite cafe for a late lunch and it was Cas’ first real chance to ask Sam for all the details of the situation with his father.

“I know that it might be difficult for you to talk about, but I just feel like I’ve been thrown into the middle of this situation without knowing anything about it or deep it goes,” Cas admitted.

“I know Cas, but I’d feel guilty if I was the one that told you. It should be Dean.”

“Maybe it should be. But we both know that he’s not going to,” Cas reasoned. The young boy nodded reluctantly in agreement. The two brothers didn’t share an immediately obvious similarity, but so many of their mannerisms and expressions they had obviously learned from each other. It really was the finer details that made them brothers.

“You really wanna know?” Sam asked sadly. Cas nodded in earnest. After a moment of contemplation, Sam finally agreed. Cas almost wished he hadn’t asked.

When Sam was four and Dean was seven their mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. The extensive treatments caused her to be bedridden and ill for the most part of the next five years, so the brunt of parenting the two young boys fell to their father, John. But John, unable to deal with his wife’s sickness, turned to drinking excessively as a coping method. His parenting took a backseat to his drinking, so for much of Sam’s childhood years he was raised by Dean.

“Wait what do you mean raised?” Cas interjected for the first time since Sam started his story.

“I just mean... raised,” Sam said bluntly. “He packed my lunch and walked me to school and let me sleep in his bed when I had nightmares. Dean’s my brother, but for most of my life he’s been more like my parent.”

“He was seven,” Cas whispered in shock, more to himself than to Sam.

“He was twelve when the cancer was finally gone and my mom went into remission. Unfortunately my dad didn’t really stop drinking even after that. Actually it kinda got worse.”

“He became an alcoholic?” Cas offered. Sam nodded sadly.

“He’d come home super late most nights, the stench of alcohol just rolling off him. Dean and my mom would drag him into bed with a glass of water and he would sleep until noon the next day. They made excuses for him for a long time. I resented them for it, especially Dean. I never understood how he could ever forgive my dad for what he did.”

“Dean doesn’t seem very forgiving of him now. What changed?” Cas asked.

Sam paused and began picking at the white paper napkin sitting just under his plate, ripping it into small pieces. His mouth was pulled into a tight line.

“Sam, what happened?”

“You don’t want to know,” he whispered.

“Damn it Sam, yes I do,” Cas exclaimed. Sam chuckled a little at that.

“You sound like Dean...” he said smiling. Cas opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find an adequate come back. He was kind of right afterall. Sam’s expression turned serious again very quickly. “He tried to kill himself.”

Cas’s blood ran cold, his eyes snapping up to meet Sam’s, silently asking the question he dared not speak out loud.

“My dad tried to.”

Cas breathed a very strained sigh of relief that was extremely short lived.

“But he almost killed Dean in the process.”

“He what?” Cas exclaimed.

“When Dean was sixteen my mom found out that John used to hit him, usually when he was drunk. She just flipped. She’d had enough of my father by that time and she kicked him out of the house. I think he shacked up with some of his buddies from the bar, but he still used to come around to the house a lot. But John just wasn’t himself after my mom told him to leave. She was the love of his life, even he had a piss poor way of showing it. And maybe a year later, he tried to kill himself in our garage.”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning?” he asked. Sam nodded.

“Closed all the doors in the garage and turned the engine of the car on. Dean was up late writing an essay and he heard him. He barely got there in time too. All the doors were locked from the inside so he threw a rock from the garden through the garage window. We don’t have an automatic garage door, so he just pried it open. John came stumbling out Dean started yelling at him, that’s what woke my mom up. But when she finally found them outside the house...” Sam swallowed hard, trying desperately to get the words out. “Dean was... he was on the ground and my dad was just... pummeling him. Like, beating him senseless. It was my mom screaming that woke me up.”

Cas’s heart stopped in his chest.

“He was what?” Cas whispered in disbelief. Clearly some mix of horrified expressions was showing on his face because Sam looked increasingly apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Cas. You don’t wanna hear this, I’m just gonna stop talking.”

“No,” Cas jumped. “No I need to hear it. What... what happened next? What happened to Dean?”

Sam looked hesitant but continued anyways.

“By the time I got outside, my dad had stumbled off somewhere, he probably hid out in some abandoned house because we called the police and everything and they couldn’t find him.”

“And Dean?” Cas insisted. “What happened to Dean?”

“Umm...” Sam swallowed and began playing with his napkin again. “Dean was lying on the ground unconscious when I got there. My mom was kneeling beside him, trying to wake him up but he was out cold. I called 911 and they drove him to a hospital in an ambulance. He had two broken ribs, and another was fractured. His face was completely swollen, like both eyes were black. My dad used to wear this big ring too, so there were cuts just everyw-”

“Sam please stop, I can’t hear anymore.”

Cas brought his hands up to cover his face, breathing deeply, trying to get some oxygen back in his head. Cas could handle gore with no problem. In the movies that Dean showed him, but also in real life. But for some reason this was too much. Knowing that someone he loved had been so badly by someone that was supposed to love him too.

“Oh no,” Cas jumped in realization, startling Sam. “I hit him.”

“Huh?” Sam squinted.

“Dean. A couple months ago. He was saying things to me, and he just wouldn’t shut up and I got so angry and I... I didn’t even think. I just punched him.” Cas looked up at Sam in shock and disgust with his own actions. “Does he hate me, because I hate me. Sam why are you laughing?!”

“Aaahhh yeah Dean told me about that time. He doesn’t hate you Cas. I mean, he was pissed but he got it. From what I heard you were both just angry at Richardson and took it out on each other, that sound about right?”

Cas nodded solemnly. Sam offered him a sympathetic grin. Sam’s phone, which was sitting on the table between them lit up and buzzed.

“It’s Dean.” Sam held out the phone for Cas to read the text.

 

mom and i are done dealing w dad now. you 2 come home

 

“What do you think ‘done dealing with dad’ means?” Cas asked as Sam took his back.

“Hopefully it means he finally stuck around long enough for the police to catch him this time. My mom filed a restraining order, but every time he comes around he leaves with just enough time to make a mess of our lives again, and not get caught.” Sam shook his head sadly and called the waiter over to ask for the bill.

The drive back to the Winchester home was quiet. Cas curled up in the passenger seat, his forehead resting against the cool glass window. He still felt guilt and sadness rolling uncomfortably in his stomach, but also a mixture of want. Or need, he wasn’t sure anymore. He only knew that Dean usually made him feel a hundred thousand times better. His personality was practically contagious. Being near him was like basking in the sun on the first warm day of spring, and touching him was-

“Do you ever feel like you just need to touch someone,” Cas blurted out, cutting off his own train of thought. Sam gave Cas a tiny, knowing smile.

“Umm, sometimes I feel like that with Jess, yeah. Not like in a bad way. Just that sometimes when I feel sad or scared, she makes everything better in a way that no one else does.”

“Dean’s like that...” Cas murmured quietly. Sam’s raucous laughter filled the car, startling Cas.

“Ohhh, we’ve got it so bad...” he groaned.

“You should tell her, Sam,” Cas smiled, remembering how fondly Sam and Jess had looked at each other, and how sweetly they interacted. “You two make a good pair.”

“Pfftt, you’re one to talk,” Sam teased. Cas shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Don’t gimme that look, Cas. Jesus, if Jess and I make a good pair, you should see you and Dean. I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off you once since you got here.”

Cas sat quietly beside Sam and listened to him ramble on for a while about Dean and him. All the thoughts and hopes that he’d always secretly had but squashed down inside him were tumbling out of Sam’s mouth like it was the simplest thing in the world. And he wanted to believe him, he did, but it just didn’t make any sense. Dean was amazing and wonderful and he was loved so much by everyone around him. Cas was nothing compared to that.

“I just don’t understand why he’d like me,” Cas admitted as Sam pulled into the driveway. He turned off the engine and angled his body towards Cas.

“Look man, I know we just kinda met, but you’re like a super cool person.” Sam smiled encouragingly. “And Dean would not hang out with you as much as he does if he didn’t honestly think that too.”

Cas shrugged, agreeing with that bit at least.

“But that doesn’t mean he has deeper feelings,” he pointed out.

“Maybe,” Sam nodded. “But then again, Dean doesn’t get drunk and wax poetic about Benny’s eyes for two hours.”

“What!?” Cas exclaimed, heat rising in his cheeks. Sam was definitely pulling his chain, there was no way Dean would ever do that.

“Mhmmm” Sam smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Sam, they’re so blue,” he drawled in an almost perfect impression of a drunk Dean. “They’re like... the bluest blue that ever blued.”

“Well, now I definitely don’t believe you,” Cas sighed.

“Okay maybe it wasn’t exactly like that, but damn close enough,” Sam conceded.

Cas still shook his head in disbelief.

“Sam, I’m a reporter. I know a false story when I hear one,” Cas admitted smugly, much to Sam’s dismay.

“Cas, I wouldn’t lie to you about this!” he insisted

“Right, and when exactly did you two have this supposed conversation?” Cas asked, putting on his ‘reporter voice’, or so Dean called it.

“Oh man...” Sam groaned, his head fell back onto the headrest as his eyes searched the roof of the car for answers. “It had to have been... frosh week.”

“What?! Sam that was almost a year ago. You’re telling me that Dean hasn’t stopped talking about me all year? I’m sorry, but I just don’t believe that.” No matter how much he wanted to, there was no way Dean had romantic feeling for him since last September.

“Besides, Dean didn’t even talk to me for the first four months of school. And over frosh we only hung out...” Cas stopped mid sentence.

They hung out that once. At that stupid frosh party where Dean had offered to walk him home and then walked away suddenly. In all the months of being friends with him, Cas had never been able to rationalize Dean’s mindset that day.

“When’s your birthday, Cas?” Sam smirked.

“November 6th,” Cas replied. And then it hit him. “Oh god.”

He was seventeen. That’s when Dean had turned cold and rushed away, when he told him he was seventeen.

“He’s your age, Sam,” Sam groaned, imitating Dean again. “I can’t date someone who’s your age.”

Cas groaned and threw his head into his hands. He rubbed at his temples, trying to process the fact that Dean and him hadn’t been together for an entire year because Cas was born too damn late in the year.

“Wait. Why didn’t he just ask me out after I turned eighteen,” Cas stated, blowing holes in Sam’s story. Sam sighed sadly at him.

“Because he fell in love with you, Cas. It wasn’t just about sex anymore. He slept around so much in high school, I think he just wanted this to be different.”

Cas curled his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his shins and gripped tight.

“Okay,” he mumbled into his denim clad knees. “Okay, so Dean likes me.”

“Loves you.”

“Sam what am I supposed to do with this? What am I supposed to say?” he begged, meeting his eyes desperately.

“I don’t know, man. You’re the journalist, you figure it out,”  Sam shrugged. “Do you love him back?”

Cas looked back at him fondly.

“I think so.”

Sam fist pumped the air and laughed in a way that Cas was immediately reminded of Dean.

“Then tell him, Cas. Just... say it.”

Cas squinted at Sam, sizing him up before suggesting his offer.

“How about I make you a deal,” Sam’s ears perked up, listening to Cas intently. “If you tell Jess how you feel about her, I’ll tell Dean how I feel about him”

He stretched out his hand across the bench seating and Sam considered it for a couple seconds before reaching out and grasping it firmly.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Woodward.”

 

 


	8. Singer

 

“Hey Cas, can we stop somewhere for a day or two?” Dean asked the next morning as they were flying down the I-35. Sam and him had crept into the house after their heavy conversation last night, went to their respective beds and crashed until morning.

When Cas woke up, he’d found Dean and Mary in the kitchen making breakfast. Dean handed Cas his waffles with a sweet smile that Cas had returned in earnest.

They bid their goodbyes, Sam dragged Cas off to the side to remind him of their deal and Cas assured him that he remembered. Mary handed him a box of cookies that he had taken a serious liking to over the week and hugged him tightly before they finally hit the road again.

“Sure Dean,” Cas yawned, still a little sleepy as he had dozed off in the car after leaving Kansas only woken up a couple minutes ago. “Can we stop for coffee first though?”

Dean laughed and took his eyes off the road for a moment to flash a big grin Cas’s way. “Course we can.”

They pulled off the road at the next small diner they saw to grab coffee and muffins, which weren’t nearly as good as Tessa’s. Cas all but forgot about his muffin when Dean pulled out his phone and grinned excitedly.

“Hey, Sammy said that he asked Jess out, and that she said yes! Told you they were practically dating.” Dean paused as a second text appeared on his phone. “Sam says to tell you that it’s your move. Huh... do you know what he means by that?” Dean frowned.

Cas shrugged nonchalantly and tried to pull his best confused face.

“I have no idea.” he stated, picking at the muffin sadly. He’d made a promise to Sam, and he would keep his word, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Or that he couldn’t wait until the right time for him. He put the thought out of his mind for now.

About an hour after they had gotten back on the road Cas realized that he had now idea where they were going on this detour. When he asked Dean, the other boy smiled fondly.

“My Uncle Bobby’s house in Sioux Falls. Well he’s not really my uncle,” he quickly amended, “but that’s what Sammy and I used to call him as kids and it just kinda stuck. We’re about two hours away.”

“Does he know that we’re coming?” Cas asked, realizing suddenly that it was very possible Dean had not informed his ‘Uncle’ of this. “I don’t want to just show up on someone’s door un-”

“Cas cool your engines, man,” he said soothingly. “He called me this morning while you were asleep. He’s invited us over.”

After Dean’s words he felt a little bit better about their unexpected visit and so he wasn’t quite expecting the greeting they received upon arriving. They pulled into the long gravel driveway of what Cas realized was not only this man’s house, but a junkyard for scrap metal and old cars. The sign that read ‘Singer’s Salvage Yard’ at the end of the driveway confirmed his suspicions. Dean turned off the car, the Impala’s rumbles slowly faded away as a short burly man in a baseball cap exited the old house through the squeaky screen door. He stopped, crossing his arms and affixed a glare so accusatory it could rival even Charlie’s angriest stare. Dean smiled sheepishly at him, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hey Bobby.”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Bobby’ me, boy!” His voice was exactly like Castiel imagined it would be. “I haven’t seen you in months and suddenly you’re driving through South Dakota on some mad road trip.” Dean laughed and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Cas’s very confused expression. “And who is this scrawny kid you’ve brought with you?” Bobby said, finally acknowledging Cas’s presence. “Do you feed this kid while you’re dragging him around the whole goddamn country?” Before he could really start in on his tirade, a woman with dark hair poked her head out the door.

“Bobby Singer, are you going to give that boy a hug and invite him and his friend in, or just stand there scoldin’ him all day?”

“Jody!” Dean cried excitedly throwing his arms up and running past Bobby to pull her into a tight hug, leaving Cas standing in front of Bobby who was somehow still making the same judgemental face.

Cas walked a couple steps towards him and stuck out his hand. “Hello Mr. Singer, my name is Castiel. I’m a friend of Dean’s,” he said politely. Bobby ignored his hand in favor of slapping him on the shoulder. It wasn’t hard to guess where Dean had picked up that particular gesture.

“C’mon in, kid. I’m gonna make you boys some lunch,” he sighed, leading Cas into the small house.

Bobby’s demeanor soon softened, as Cas suspected it would, after a hug from Dean and some coaxing from Jody. Jody Mills, as Cas learned, was the local town sheriff and she and Bobby were good friends. The four of them sat down for what was easily the best meal Cas had eaten in months, and definitely since beginning the road trip. Dean offered to washed the dishes afterwards and Cas was  helping him dry them when Jody asked them about the road trip.

“So, what exactly are you boys doing hundreds of miles from where you live with nothing but the clothes on your back and whatever you’ve got in the trunk of that damn car.”

“Don’t you be talkin’ down about my car now, Sheriff,” Dean drawled, drying his hands on a kitchen towel and leaning into the counter. There was something about being back in the Midwest that made Dean just so much more relaxed and effortlessly stunning. It was as though all the rich colours of the sun-soaked wheat fields and endless blue sky just loaned themselves to him, and every green hue of his eyes and golden tone of his skin shone just a little bit brighter. Cas stared at him in mesmerized awe before Bobby entering the kitchen snapped him back into reality.

“How’s she runnin’ nowadays, Dean?”

Dean shrugged and sat down at the kitchen table across from Jody, pulling the chair out beside him for Cas to sit. “Ehh, I’m just driving in the city mostly. Nothing too rough.”

“These country roads though...” Cas offered. Dean hummed in agreement.

“I’m not worried though, she’s tough.” Dean smiled. “So you wanna know about this story we’re chasing, Jody?” he asked, turning back to their original conversation.

“Is that what all this is about?” Jody said, her eyes brightening in interest. “Yeah, I wanna hear about it.”

“I’ll grab the binder out of the car,” Cas said, standing up. “Maybe a pair of fresh eyes will help us get another angle on the story.” Dean tossed him the keys to the car just before he left the kitchen. He was out and back in less than a minute, their large research binder in hand.

For the next few hours Dean and Cas laid out all their information on the table and went through step by step each piece of evidence they had collected with Bobby and Jody.

~

They didn’t finish their discussion until late after the last streaks of the setting orange sun had slipped away from the kitchen. Dean and Cas were washing the dishes again, this time after the dinner that the group had eaten around the newspaper articles and notebooks strewn around the table, when Cas looked out the small kitchen window.

“Wow,” he said, looking up in awe, frozen in space still holding a dripping bowl.

“What is it?” Dean looked down at him in confusion. Cas paid him no attention as he moved away from the sink and quickly walked out the kitchen door onto the back yard porch to stare up into the sky.

Cas had lived his whole life in the city. He was born and raised in Chicago and before moving to Washington, his family had only ever visited a couple other big cities in America. Camping was not an annual Woodward family event, nor was cottaging, or even visiting small towns for that matter.

Dean followed him onto the porch within a matter of seconds and was now wearing an expression of confusion and worry.

“Cas what’s wrong?” he asked seriously. Cas smiled at his complete misunderstanding of the situation.

“I’ve never seen the stars like this before.” he said, looking back up into the dark sky filled with thousands of tiny pinpricks, each shining brighter than the next. They went on into forever, and the longer Cas looked, the more he saw. Pinpricks became faint clusters swirling in the night sky, visible only behind the brighter stars. Complex swirls met each other in the vast expanse of darkness to paint a belt of faint blue stars stretching across the sky. Dean sighed exasperatedly and clambered back into the kitchen. Cas barely noticed him return a few minutes later holding a folded blanket and two beers.

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean smiled, curling a hand around Cas’s bicep and pulling him down the steps. “I know the perfect place to sit and watch ‘em.”

Dean took him to the one small patch of actual grass that Bobby had on his property. Cas was grateful for the blanket, because the grass was clearly not well cared for and had grown long and scratchy in the hot summer months. Time seemed to slip away as they lay on their backs, sipping on cold beer and gazing at the infinite depth of stars for what felt like eons to Castiel, but could only have been mere hours. Dean snorted in amusement when Cas gasped, seeing a shooting star. Of course, the excitement bubbled over, and Dean was forced to calm Cas down whenever a star seemed to track its way across the sky in an orderly way that was suspiciously like a satellite. Dean surprised Cas in his knowledge of space by pointing out stars and constellations with the same reverence that he sang along to his favourite classic rock songs with.

“And that there is Orion. You can kinda see his belt but let’s be real, it’s a pretty bullshit constellation.” Cas laughed at Dean’s utter inability to not describe even his most loved things without sounding a little disdainful. Their ‘Star Wars’ marathon was a good example of that.

“No, I still don’t see this constellation, Dean,” Cas admitted.

“Cas it’s right there!” he said, pointing across Castiel to a place far on the left side of the sky. “The three stars in a row. And his dog Sirius is chillin’ beside him.”

“There?” Cas asked, pointing to where he thought Dean might be indicating.

“Ugh no, here.” Cas found himself suddenly pulled towards Dean, pressing so far into his space that Dean could easily grab Cas’s left hand with his own to manhandle his hand to point exactly where the constellation was. “It’s right there.” Dean’s voice was soft in his ear as he moved their joined hands across an invisible line in the sky, following three stars that Cas finally acknowledged were part of Orion’s belt. He was actually quite impressed with himself that he was thinking any coherent thoughts right now considering he was currently pressed back-to-chest, holding hands with, and cradled in the arms of Dean Winchester who appeared to have no intentions of letting go anytime soon. Not that Cas would ever want him to. Ever.

After a few minutes of blissful peace, and basking in the warmth of Dean pressed behind him, his breath tickling the fine hairs at the base of his neck, Dean seemed to come to his senses and realized that he had essentially pulled Castiel into a position where they were spooning. Cas could feel nervous energy practically radiating off him as he shuffled a few inches away and sat up properly, Cas coming up to meet him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... done that.” Cas’s heart nearly broke at the sound of Dean’s voice so ashamed and apologetic. “We should probably talk. I’m guessing this isn’t exactly how you wanted this night to end.”

It was so typically Dean to finally figure out that he wanted something, only to back away at the last moment for fear of rejection, and the assumption that his feelings were not returned. After what his family had told him during their visit to Lawrence, Cas understood why a little more. So with a different person, in a different situation, Cas never would have done what he did, but he couldn’t let Dean continue looking so dejected.

So before Dean could say another word, Cas leaned in a couple inches and brought a finger to Dean’s lips, mimicking the action that Meg often did to him which he knew had sexual connotations. Dean looked up at his stunned as Cas crawled into his lap with a smile, bracing his legs on either side of Dean’s hips and tilted his head up with both hands to meet the older boy’s eyes.

“Dean, this is how I want every night to end.” He nuzzled into Dean’s nose a little, like little eskimo kisses, before pressing his lips to Dean’s smiling mouth. Cas soon discovered that it’s very difficult to kiss when both parties have permanent grins plastered on their faces. It’s more like playful nips and quick pecks at each other’s lips - not that Cas was complaining in the slightest.

It was a couple minutes before things turned into proper kissing and Cas pulled his fingers through Dean’s hair a little more roughly when he felt calloused hands find their way under the hem of his t-shirt and slide up his chest. Dean’s dropped his kisses to Cas’s jaw, and then nosed under his chin before moving down to the jut between his neck and shoulder and sucked a dark bruise into his lightly tanned skin. Cas jumped forward in surprise, pressing harder into where they were joined at the hip, his mouth falling open in pleasure.

“Too much?” Dean asked quietly, mouthing softly over the mark slowly beginning to form on his neck. Cas swallowed thickly, feeling a little lightheaded.

“Not enough,” he replied, gripping a hand under Dean’s chin and pulling him in to fix their open mouths together and licked into his mouth, sliding their tongues together and grinding his hips down harder, eliciting a stifled moan from the boy below him. Cas huffed a triumphant laugh into Dean’s open mouth. Dean, clearly surprised at Cas’s daring - and to be honest Cas was a little surprised at himself too - leaned back onto his hands with a questioning expression.

“You know, two can play that game, Cas.” Dean smiled seductively. Cas raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Bring it on, Dean,” he laughed. Dean leaned back in, fitting his hands to Cas’s hips and pulling him in closer while kissing him deeply. He then wrapped his arms around Cas tightly and pulled him gently to the blanketed grass, climbing in between his legs and pushing his shirt up gently.

They spent the next long while on that blanket in the field, lying under the stars wrapped in the cover of darkness, and the daring it seemed to give them. The intense humidity from earlier in the day had subsided leaving only residual warmth in the air, just enough that they could comfortably remove some clothing and not freeze. Then, it was a whirlwind of Dean’s hands and mouth anywhere he could get them on Cas’s warm torso, and then just a little bit further down.

Dean was undoing the clasps on his belt, Cas’s hands clenched into the blanket completely on edge and breathing hard with anticipation, when Dean stopped to laugh into the hollow of Cas’s hipbone.

“What?” Cas asked desperately, barely recognizing the rough scrape of his own voice.

“I’m just thinking about something Meg said,” Dean admitted, still chuckling slightly. Cas balked at him.

“You’re really thinking about Meg at a time like thi-”

“No, Cas.” Dean sat up a little more and continued delving Cas of his pants. “I’m thinking about something she said.” Dean curled his hands into the waistband of Cas’s unfastened jeans and boxers and pressed a kiss to his stomach just below his belly button before asking with a devious smile, “would you like a practical demonstration of a ‘deepthroat’?”

________________

> **Monday July 15th, 2013 09:36:18**
> 
> Cas is adorable when he sleeps.
> 
> -Dean
> 
> __________________

Sex with Dean wasn’t anything he was expecting, and yet he was left with the feeling that there was really no other way it could have gone. They had been playing a game of cat and mouse for close to a year now, so why would their sexual exploits be anything less than an extension of that? Tug of war. Push and pull. Give and take.

He had been so caught up in the worry that it would be awkward and fumbling and that he’d been terrible at it that he never considered Dean would take all the tension out of the air just by being himself. His dumb, adorable, caring, sweet self. Showing, simply through being himself that it didn’t all have to be heat and intensity, but that it could be playful and fun. Cas woke up with these thoughts in the warm bed they had fallen into late last night after finally leaving their place in the field, still pressing soft kisses into each other’s skin. They’d drifted off to sleep within minutes curled facing towards each other, Cas’s head tucked under Dean’s chin. Waking up, he quickly realized that Dean was no longer pressed up against him but rather sitting at the bottom of the bed on his computer. Cas poked at him with his feet, trying to catch his attention. Dean looked up startled from his laptop, and smiled sweetly at him.

“Mornin’ Cas.”

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas replied sleepily, pulling himself up into a sitting position and leaning back on the soft pillows.

“So...” Dean said pointedly, glancing back down at his computer and poorly concealing a coy grin. “You do anything fun last night?”

Cas hit him with a pillow.

“You are such an assbutt.”

“Well with an insult like that, it’s not easy guessing what you’re thinkin’ about.”

Cas hit him with a pillow again.

> __________________
> 
> **Monday July 15th, 2013 13:23:07**
> 
> Cas saw my last entry and I got slapped in the face with a pillow a couple more times. He wants me to tell you that he’s not adorable, he’s tough and manly and you should continue to think of him that way. He would also like to tell you that he’s not answering any of your texts or Facebook messages, especially the ones that are asking for the sordid details *cough* Charlie *cough*.
> 
> We left Bobby’s about three hours ago and we’ve stopped at a diner by the road for hamburgers and fries. The next stop on our trip is Monument, Colorado to pay a visit to Lilith Haldeman and see what she’s got to confess. It’ll be a couple more hours driving but we’ll update you all after we speak to her.
> 
> \- Dean
> 
>  
> 
> **Monday July 15th, 2013 13:25:49**
> 
> Charlie if you don’t stop texting Cas I’m literally never gonna get laid again.
> 
> \- Dean
> 
> __________________

They caught up with Lilith at the restaurant she worked at in the summer, the information for which they had found out from one of her co workers at CREP. She was displeased to see them, to say the least, not that they expected anything less. Lilith was Richardson’s Chief of Staff and rumor was, she was devoted to him.

“You bastards better get the fuck out of this restaurant. I’m not telling you a goddamn thing,” she said viciously after spotting them sitting at the table in the corner of the restaurant and had stomped over.

“You don’t have to tell us anything, we know everything already. We just want you to confirm it,” Dean smirked.

“Too fucking bad, Winchester. I’ve heard from my friends what you’ve been convincing them to say, and it’s not gonna matter in the end, no one is going to believe you.”

“Hmm, well that’s the best part of all this.” Dean was full on smiling now. “No one has to believe us, the facts and the proof are gonna speak for themselves.”

“You don’t have any proof! It’s just two reporters of a crumbling paper’s word against that of the greatest student President this school has ever had.”

“Greatest? Great - Lilith! There’s no way you can believe that!” Dean cried. Some of the patrons in the cafe flashed dirty looks their way, but Dean ignored them and continued his rant. “He has done nothing but lie and cheat his way into office and you know what none of you CREEP’s understand? He dragged you down with him. And you know what the kicker is? He doesn’t care.”

Dean’s words visibly cut Lilith deep. Cas considered calling him out on being a little too cruel - something they had promised they wouldn’t do - but then he realized that Dean’s words were probably coming from a much darker place than Nick Richardson, and Lilith was simply the unfortunate target.

“He would sell you all out in a second. He doesn’t trust you, Lilith. Why do you trust him?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone,” she confessed, looking almost saddened by the confession. “Why do you think any of us are even in this situation? Richardson is vile and ruthless and I’ve never seen him say one single sincere thing. And that is exactly why I trust him.”

Her answer surprised Cas.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “How can you trust someone who is so insincere, you’ve never truly known the real them?”

“Because what if the real Nick Richardson is a good man who does bad things?”

Lilith almost asked the question was almost more to herself than to Dean and him, but Cas still considered it for a long time, even after she had told them to leave because she wasn’t going to admit to anything. After miles and miles of driving and after hours of watching every small town in the Midwest fly past his window, he still couldn’t get Lilith’s words out of his head. It was only after their next meeting with a CREP member did he bring it up with Dean.

They were sitting on the hood of the Impala, stretched out once again under the stars. It was Cas’s favourite place to talk. He still never got over the feeling that he was almost confessing his secrets to the sky, as much as he was to Dean. On one hand, Dean always had a response. Whether it be whispered words of comfort, or something more primal, Cas could always rely on a tangible answer. But the idea that the sky took all of his sins and confessions and swallowed them up into it’s abyss was also an incredibly comforting thought.

The best nights were when he confessed to both of them. His sun and the stars.

“I’ve been thinking about what Lilith said,” he mumbled, wrapped up in his (Dean’s) hoodie and leaning comfortably into Dean’s side. “What if she’s right. What if Richardson, deep down, is a good guy?”

Dean hummed into Cas’s hair, considering his question for a while and wrapped his arm tighter around him. “Well then, does it really matter what somebody is like deep down if they don’t show it outwardly too? Can he really be a good guy if he acts like a dick all the time, Cas? And don’t tell me you forgive him for what he said to us.”

“I don’t, definitely not. But what if there’s more to him than that?”

Dean sighed sympathetically, pulling Castiel closer and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I think maybe there’s more to everyone than we always see. But just because someone has redeemable qualities, doesn’t make them a good person all around. Now c’mon babe, I know you kill yourself over this stuff, but you should try and get some sleep tonight.”

Cas sighed and nestled deeper into Dean’s arms. He put his philosophical considerations to bed for the time being, and quickly drifted off to sleep himself.

~

Dean’s next brilliant idea was to visit Bela. Cas didn’t have a problem with Bela whatsoever, and Benny was visiting her at home and so he could understand why Dean especially wanted to go. Cas too would like to see some friends before heading back to school. No, the problem was that Bela lived in Las Vegas. Sin City itself. The antithesis of Cas’s entire upbringing, and it was safe to say that he was a little bit nervous.

They met the two outside Bela’s apartment and greeted their friends with warm hugs and gentle laughter.

“What have I said about sunscreen, brotha?” Benny teased Dean as always. Dean’s freckles were always Benny’s go-to jibe because even though everyone loved his speckled skin, Dean for some reason found it embarrassing.

Bela hugged Cas quickly before giving him a good once over and congratulating him on finally getting some. Apparently everyone from Washington was still reading their blog.  

They four of them spent the morning that Dean and Cas arrived getting them fake ID’s. Dean’s they just had altered so that he was born one year earlier, but they got Cas a whole new ID. That night they headed to Bela’s favourite casino with enough money in their pockets to last them a couple hours - all night if they were lucky.

It was soon discovered that Cas had an amazing poker face, even with Dean handing him a shot each time he won a hand. After a few hours at the poker and blackjack tables, Cas was dying to check out the slot machines so he took his winnings and him and Dean made their way over to blow whatever money Cas had earned on pulling a lever over and over again. They were really too drunk to care. They were too drunk to do anything after a while so they found a spot along one of the bars and sat down. The bartender was unfortunately a friend of Bela’s and enjoyed giving out shots on the house to all of her friends. Around two in the morning, Dean and Cas declared themselves supremely drunk and retired to their hotel room that they had rented for the night. When they reached their room on the 12th floor of the hotel, Cas drunkenly fumbled the key card out of his pocket and let them in. He cast his coat on the desk that sat between the two double beds and turned to say something to find him standing much closer that he had thought with a look that Cas could only recognize as one that Dean gave him after that party at frosh, but a bit different. Deeper, more meaningful.

“You’re rrreally good at poker,” Dean slurred. Cas laughed breathlessly and wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other and kissing softly before Cas admitted that he was too drunk, and too tired to do much more.

“Don’t worry, I’m exhausted too.” Dean smiled, pulling away just a little. “ How does pyjamas and then sleep sound?” Cas groaned appreciatively, tucking himself back against Dean’s chest.

“It sounds perfect,” he mumbled sleepily.

They changed into their pyjamas and brushed their teeth separately. Dean exited the bathroom last and found Cas standing with his back to him in his favourite sweatpants and a soft t-shirt looking down at the beds. Dean stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Cas’s front and resting his head on Cas’s clothed shoulder. Dean’s chest flush with Cas’s back, just swaying lightly for a few moments.

“Which one are you gonna take?” Dean asked, his voice right in Cas’s ear. Cas considered it for a moment before replying in a joking manner.

“Whichever one you’re in,” he grinned mischievously. Dean laughed, they were pressed so close that the sound of it reverberated through Cas’s chest as well. He decided that he really didn’t want Dean to let go any time soon.

“No, really Dean. You’re very warm and I’d like it very much if we could sleep like this,” Cas said sleepily, turning in Dean’s arms and tucking his head under Dean’s chin. Dean softly whispered in his ear that that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night and walked an extremely tired Cas backwards and dropped him on the bed to their right. He pushed Cas under the covers and climbed in after him. Dean laid on his back with Cas curled on one side, his head resting on Dean’s soft shoulder and they both fell asleep warm and content within minutes.

Waking up beside Dean was a whole different experience. At some point during the night he’d turned into a snuggly octopus and Cas was now had six feet of warm limbs and broad torso pressed solidly against his back. Small puffs of air played across the hairs at the back of his neck, tickling him slightly. Dean’s hand was splayed against the front of his chest, and Cas’s hand had at some point met it there to brush lightly across Dean’s knuckles. His neck was twisted funny and his other arm had fallen asleep at some point during the night, but he’d never felt more comfortable or safe in his life and he drifted back to sleep.

When they had both finally woken up and hauled their asses out of bed, they said their goodbyes to Bela and Benny and continued on their way. They had heard a rumour that a major member in CREP had got a CO-OP position in Los Angeles and figured that they might as well make the trip coast-to-coast, so they continued heading West.

Their relationship and the way they acted around each other didn’t change outwardly at all, something that Cas was grateful for. There was a sense between them that a weight had been lifted off and the air between them cleared. Something that Cas was even more grateful for.

“You know Disneyland is just around here,” Dean said, around two and a half hours into their drive. “I mean a bit further, but not too far out of Los Angeles.”

“Really?” Cas replied, flipping through his notebook at his most recent notations. “I’ve never been so I wouldn’t know.” Dean nearly swerved the car off the road.

“You’ve never what?! Cas every kid has been to Disneyland, it’s like, the law or something!” Cas squinted his eyes at Dean in annoyance. Dean looked back at him, still in shock. “Okay, you know what, fuck this Naomi bitch. We’re going to Disneyland.”

“Dean you’re insane, we need to talk to her!” Cas declared to no avail.

“They all say the same thing, Cas. What’s she gonna tell us that we don’t already know?” he had a fair point. “C’mon, it’s almost the end of the summer and you’ve never been to Disneyland. That’s just sad.” Cas scoffed and rolled his eyes. He at least had to pretend to put up a good fight before caving.

“Fine. We’ll go to Disneyland...” Dean whooped in victory.

“Awesome. You’re gonna look so damn cute in Mickey Mouse ears.”

> _____________________
> 
> **Friday, July 19th, 2013 14:21:05**
> 
> Cas in Mickey Mouse ears is now a thing.
> 
> \- Dean
> 
> ____________________________

Despite Cas’s protests for most of the day, he did manage to wrangle Cas into a pair of the plastic black ears at around 3:00 in the afternoon. He pressed a quick kiss to his lips before snapping a photo of Cas’s angry face in the dorky ears.

So far their day had mainly been spent by Dean dragging Cas around the enormous amusement park and showing him all his favourite things he used to go to as a kid. Cas tried cotton candy for the first time, and lunch consisted of curly fries. His favourite part of the day had easily been when he was accosted by three little girls in princess outfits, their little faces sticky from popsicles and yelling ‘Prince Eric! Prince Eric!’ He was still unsure who Eric was, mainly because Dean had ended up on the ground from laughing so hard and was unable to tell him what the reference they were making was, or why it was so funny. He posed for a couple photos taken by the girls’ extremely apologetic mother. The girls each demanded at least a hug each, and one of the girls even got in a sticky kiss on his cheek before they were finally dragged away crying by their increasingly embarrassed and still apologetic mother. From what he had gathered from Dean’s laughter-filled explanation, Cas’s white button-down shirt and dark pants made him look a little bit like a Prince from a popular Disney movie. He then added slyly that his ‘dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes could easily make silly mermaids fall in love with him’. A sentence that was quite perplexing if you didn’t understand the reference. Which Cas didn’t. Dean was still laughing too hard to explain it.

Early evening found Dean and Cas curled up on one of the many park benches, just watching the happy families walk by with their excited children. Dean’s head rested on Cas’s shoulder and Cas’s head - still clad in the ridiculous mouse ears - rested atop Dean’s head. Cas was still so exhausted from their Casino night that he was just about ready to fall asleep right there when a loud ringing emitted out of his pocket. He blearily pulled his cell phone out and unfortunately forgot to check the caller ID before answering.

“Hello?” he answered as brightly as he could.

“Hello Castiel,” a thick British voice drawled on the other line. “Let’s talk, sweetheart.”

“Crowley,” he growled. Dean uncurled himself from Castiel’s side and raised his eyebrows at the phone, leaning close to hear Crowley on the other end. “What do you want?”

“I may have been a bit… lax in the information I gave you the last time we spoke,” Crowley clucked.

“Damn it, Crowley!” Dean interjected, snatching the phone from Castiel’s grasp. “We asked you if you had anything more to tell us and you gave a firm, definite no.”

“Okay so I lied,” Cas heard Crowley state through the phone.

Dean looked about ready to throw the phone to the ground, but Cas grabbed it back before he could even swing his arm.

“Last chance, Crowley. Tell us everything now, or just quit speaking to us,” Cas fumed.

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, darling. I’ll tell you. But not over the phone, you should know by now that that’s a bad idea. Meet me in the same park as last time tomorrow.”

“In Washington?!” Cas exclaimed. “Crowley we’re on the other side of the country, it’s going to take at least three days of non-stop driving to get there.”

“Fine, Woodward. Take three days. I’ll meet you at noon, and if you’re not there you can kiss this lead goodbye.”

  
  



	9. Richardson

 

By some miracle sent from the heavens, they had made it. Dean only got about five hours of sleep each night, which worried Castiel intensely, but they had actually made it. They didn’t have time to stop at Dean’s apartment before going to the park to meet Crowley. They found him sitting on the same bench as last time, looking down at his watch. They rushed towards him, catching his attention when they got close enough.

“Okay, Crowley. Spill,” Dean sneered at him as Cas pulled out his notebook.

“First I want to know one thing, Winchester,” Crowley hissed, standing to meet Dean’s level, glaring darkly into his eyes. “Are you and Woodward monogamous?”

Dean was good for about three seconds before he snapped and sucker punched Crowley in the stomach. Crowley bent over in pain, but Dean didn’t let him have a second. He gripped onto the collar of his jacket and pulled him up close to his face.

“Okay, jackass. This is how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna tell us what information you left out the last fucking time, then we’re gonna walk the fuck away, and you’re never gonna think about fucking Cas again. Are we clear?” he snarled. Crowley groaned in agreement and Dean reluctantly let him go.

“What did you drag us back here for, Crowley?” Cas growled. The thought of Crowley touching him was making his skin crawl. “What’s the info?”

Crowley glared up at them, daring to challenge Dean’s terms.

“A name,” he finally retorted. Cas got his pen ready. “Henricksen. Victor Henricksen. Rumor is, he knows something that the rest of us don’t.”

“That it?” Dean glared. “You’re not keeping any important details of it this time.”

“Well the way I hear it, what he knows is big enough to blow this whole story wide open. You find this bastard, you’ve got Richardson.”

 

Victor Henricksen was Richardson’s Deputy Assistant at CREP but almost more importantly, he was Lilith Haldeman’s personal aide. Dean got his number off of Crowley at the end of their meeting, and they made plans to meet with him on the same day. After a brief text conversation (that may have included a few threats on Dean’s part), Victor agreed to meet outside the main library. Victor had also just graduated, which was one of the reasons he seemed willing to help them. But Victor was also a man of great honour and conviction, and it was this trait that Dean tapped into using his own sense of righteousness that tipped Victor over the edge to come clean about everything that he knew.

“First of all, do you know that Richardson knew about all of this?” Victor had asked them, wanting to confirm what they knew first. Cas nodded.

“That’s the first thing that Crowley told us, but we had our suspicions regardless. But do you know exactly everything that he knew?”

“I don’t think anyone really does. This operation passed through so many people’s hands that I’m not sure who knows what anymore.” Cas and Dean sighed defeatedly. Maybe the story spread too far to ever get a coherent statement from anyone, and maybe this lead was a dud too. But then Henricksen continued. “There is one way that theoretically you could find out though.”

“What, ask everyone who was involved and hope they don’t lie to us...” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes, clearly not liking what he was hearing.

“No.” Henricksen glared at him. “Richardson made tapes.”

That stopped Dean dead in his tracks and Cas felt his own blood run cold.

“He did what?” Cas asked, not believing what Victor was telling them.

“On his laptop, he recorded practically every conversation that ever happened in his office. The only reason I even know this is that one day he bragged to me about it. Just sat there and gloated.”

“Why?” he whispered, still not believing what Victor was saying. “Why would he do that, or think that that was a good idea?”

“The first thing you’ve got to know about Richardson is that sometimes, he just doesn’t have a good reason for things. He’s a paranoid bastard and it clouds every single one of his judgements. Once you understand that, you’ll understand why you’ll never understand him.”

Cas tried to write Victor’s statement verbatim in his notebook, but he gave up after a few seconds and just wrote ‘PARANOID’. His mind was too overloaded with shock to make a more coherent note than that.

“Is that all I can help you boys with?” Victor asked. Dean nodded, shook Victor’s hand and thanked him for his time. The drive home was done in shocked silence. Neither of them could accurately come up with a way to understand the implications of Victor’s information. If they could get their hands on those tapes, Richardson would be done.

They finally arrived back at Dean’s apartment and they were in the door for all of three seconds before Dean turned to him, his mouth agape in shock.

“Holy shit.” Cas laughed at his word choice. It was the exact same thing he’d said way back in January at the beginning of this whole insane story.

“I know,” he whispered breathlessly. “We got him. We won, Dean. And I don’t know how to react”

Dean surged forward and pushed Cas up against the front door, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. Dean’s fingers carding through his hair and down under his jaw, tipping his head to press open-mouthed kisses to Cas’s lips.

“Is this an okay reaction?” Dean pulled away quickly to ask.

Cas pressed back into him and deepened the kiss for an answer.

Cas’s own hands had found their way to the front of Dean’s shirt, grasping at it and slipping under. After a few passionate kisses, Dean’s hands mirrored Cas’s and fell to his waist to push him harder against the door, rolling his hips to drive Cas literally up the wall.

“Ahh, Dean,” Cas moaned against his lips. Dean laughed breathlessly against him.

“Yeah Cas, I know,” he grinned. “Bed?” Dean asked timidly, his green eyes sparkling with desire. Cas pressed a hard kiss to his lips before shaking his head and answering,

“No. Couch, now,”  Cas said forcefully, pushing Dean back only to throw his arms around his shoulders and jump up to wrap his legs around his sturdy waist. Cas heard him breathe out a string of blasphemous curses before walking into the living room to lay Cas down on the couch and climb on top of him. His lips and tongue trailing down Cas’s neck to suck at the flawless, pale flesh which would certainly not look that way by morning. Dean’s hands trailed up Cas’s thighs, pushing them apart slowly and slotting between them eliciting a needy gasp from the boy below him.

“Fuck, Dean if you don’t start taking my clothes off I’m going to lose it,” Cas said heatedly, and in all seriousness. For some reason unfathomable to Cas, it made Dean chuckle. Which only infuriated Cas further. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked incredulously.

“No sweetheart,” Dean’s expression softened as he pressed a chaste kiss to Cas’s lips, “but I can’t say I don’t love to see you like this.”

“Then why don’t you jus-” Dean pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Shh, Cas,” he kissed him sweetly again, “because it’s better when it’s slower. And I can tell that you’re nervous.” Cas stilled at that and dropped his gaze from Dean’s. Was he really so obviously terrible at this?

“Hey gorgeous,” Dean pulled his chin up to meet his eyes once again. “It’s okay if you are, and it’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I just don’t want you to be scared because I’m here, and I’m not going to hurt you.” Apart from their initial hook up in Bobby’s field, and a couple heated hand jobs in the back seat of the Impala, they’d honestly been too busy to explore each other any further than that. But Cas wanted more. He wanted Dean’s skin pressing into his, and warm hands caressing and stroking. He wanted to be pulled apart at the seams and sewn back together with the strings of Dean’s heart and soul. And the mere thought of that, of giving so much control over to one person, was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

He looked back up at Dean whose expression held so much sincerity and worry that Cas realized Dean was probably just as terrified as he was, and somehow it made it all seem okay. Any worry that had plagued his mind before was gone in the blink of an eye, because this was Dean. Who was kind and soft and never once had anything but Castiel’s best interests in mind. Dean whom he loved more than anything and wanted to share everything, including this moment with.

“Dean,” Cas smiled, “I really, really want to do this.” Dean grinned back and dropped another quick kiss onto his lips. He then opened his mouth to say what was surely going to be the best sentence of Castiel’s life when he was cut off by the rudest and most insolent voice that Cas had ever heard.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

Gabriel. They had forgotten about Gabriel.

Ten minutes later, after much scrambling and failed excuses, Dean and Gabriel were having an ultimate stare-down in the living room while Cas boiled the kettle in the kitchen and looked at the scene in front of him angrily. When the silence finally became too much for him to handle, Cas walked the short distance to the living room and thrust his arms out to his sides in question.

“Are either of you ever going to say anything or are we going to sit here forever?” At no sign of movement or life from either of them he slyly added in Gabriel’s direction, “Because there’s something I’d really like to finish with Dean, and preferably some time soon.” Gabriel’s golden eyes flared with anger. Cas grinned internally; he knew his brother too well.

“Are you fucking my brother?” Gabriel finally, though rather bluntly, asked Dean.

“Not at this moment, no.” Dean replied just as bluntly. “But I’d like to be. Many different times, in many different positions.”

Apparently Dean had figured out Gabriel better than Cas realized, smiling at his reply. You had to be a certain type of person to make Gabriel turn that exact shade of red. The kettle popped and Cas went back to the kitchen to prepare the tea while Gabriel sputtered for a response.

“Look,” Cas heard Dean interject from across the room, “I get the whole protective big-brother deal, okay? It’s kinda my thing. So from personal experience, I think the last thing you want is for me to lie to you which is why I’m doing the exact opposite. Yes, I would very much like to have sex with Cas but y’know what, he wants to have sex with me too. Do you want to know how I know that?” Dean paused as if for answer, even though it was clearly a rhetorical question. Cas figured it was more a test of Gabriel’s patience. “I know that because I just spent the five minutes previous to you walking in on us giving him an out if he wanted to stop at any point. Gabriel he’s not a kid anymore.”

“I know that, Winchester,” Gabriel cut in. “Doesn’t mean he can’t get hurt.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. But I’m not exactly in this for just the sex.” Cas’s ears perked up at that comment. He set the tea spoon down to listen to the next part of Dean’s speech. Not that he ever thought Dean was only trying to sleep with him, but it made him feel happy and light headed to hear Dean say it anyways. “I’m not in this for the short term, and I’m not in this to screw him over a couple months down the road.”

Cas was grinning from ear to ear when he sat down on the couch beside Dean and placed each of their teas in front of them on the KC Royal’s coasters that Sam had given to Dean as part of his going-away care package. Dean pressed a kiss to Cas’s temple when he sat down beside him. They drank their tea in silence for the most part. Gabriel commenting every once and a while about how things were going at the paper and with Charlie. By the time their teas ran cold Cas found that the itching need to touch Dean was still simmering under his skin.

“Gabe, I’m tired and so is Dean. So while I would love to sit here and have this incredibly awkward stare down, I think that sleep would be a better option.”

“Let me guess... you want your bed back, don’t ya, Dean,” Gabriel grumbled darkly.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. “Kinda yeah.”

“That would be the best sleeping arrangement I think,” Cas stated. “Unless of course you and Dean both want to take the bed...”

It got the reaction he wanted out of them as they both shuddered at the thought of it. Cas pulled Dean up off the couch by his hand and tugged him to the bedroom.

“But you’re just gonna sleep, right?” Gabriel demanded at the last minute, still glaring slightly at Dean.

“We’re just gonna sleep,” Cas smirked.

~

Ten minutes later they were definitely not just sleeping.

Instead, Dean had wedged himself between Cas’s legs after tearing his pyjama shirt off and Cas had removed Dean’s shirt shortly thereafter. Dean’s hands cupped Castiel’s face, angling his head wherever he wanted it, bringing their kisses into deeper more heated territory.

Cas used one free hand to reach into Dean’s pants and stroke his thick cock once from base to head. Dean moaned into Cas’s mouth and rolled his hips into the jut of Cas’s pelvis, seeking out friction. Cas felt his own dick straining against his soft material of his sweatpants and wiggled up the bed a bit to pull them off. His cock finally bobbed free and Dean reached between them to stroke it slowly, his thumb curling around the head of it in each upwards twist.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as they lay there stroking and kissing each other for several minutes. Dean pulled away for a moment to sift through the small drawer in the bedside table before pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom. Cas’s eyes widened up at Dean and he nodded once slowly.

Dean popped the cap of the bottle and squirted some of the liquid onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm them up. Cas shuffled down the bed a little and Dean placed a fluffy pillow under his hips.

Cas breathed out, calming himself and relaxing into Dean’s touch. Dean leaned down for a few more kisses before Cas felt his fingers slide to his ass and circle around his hole. He gasped sharply when the first one pushed inside.

“Are you okay, is this okay?” Dean whispered.

“It’s good,” Cas stuttered. “Just keep... keep going.”

Cas pushed back onto the finger, trying to get used to the feeling of it inside him. It was tight, but Cas could already feel his body opening up to Dean. Soon another finger joined the first and the pressure increased. He tried to keep quiet, for Gabriel’s sake more than theirs, but the pleasure radiating through him in waves kept bringing tiny noises out of him.

By the time Dean was easily working three fingers inside him, he was moaning uncontrollably and without regard for what Gabriel was probably hearing outside.

“Dean, please. I’m ready just... just do it, please.”

Dean’s fingers slipped out of him and Cas immediately felt empty and clenching around nothing. Dean ripped the condom wrapper open and rolled the thin layer of latex over his thick cock. Cas reached up to grip the back of Dean’s neck and bring him into a deep kiss. He felt Dean’s hands settle on his hips and then the head of Dean’s cock nudged against Cas’s entrance.

Dean leaned back up and took one hand off Cas’s hip to guide himself past Cas’s rim and into the tight heat. Dean let out a filthy groan and Cas’s eyes fluttered closed at the pressure of it.

“No, God. Look at me, please,” Dean pleaded in desperation, his hand raked through Cas’s hair, tugging on it slightly. Cas’s eyes flew back open at his request, staring up at Dean who was hovering just inches above him.

“Fuck, your eyes...” Dean leaned down to breathe heavily into the crook of Cas’s neck, his hips rolling forward just slightly and pushed impossibly deeper inside him.

“Ngghh, Dean,” Cas moaned, his fingernails dug into Dean’s shoulder blades, scraping down freckled skin. Dean sat up suddenly, his hands slid down the length of Cas’s chest to grips his hips tightly. Hot fingertips pressed into the soft skin and Cas thought numbly that there might be bruises the next morning. It wasn’t a terrible thought.

Dean used the new position and extra leverage to lift Cas’s hips up and pull himself out of their joined bodies. Cas groaned hoarsely when he pushed back in and set a deliciously slow pace. Dean’s eyes constantly flickered between boring into Cas’s and looking down at where his cock was pushing in and out of Cas’s body.

He kept up those achingly slow thrusts for what felt like an eternity until Dean changed position slightly and the head of his cock brushed against Cas’s prostate. Cas jolted up with a shuddering gasp. Dean pulled him up the whole way so that Cas was effectively sitting in Dean’s lap with his knees braced on either sides of Dean’s hips. Strong arms wrapped around his chest as Dean pulled them flush against each other. Dean’s mouth pressed under his jaw and moved up to nip and lick at Cas’s ear lobe. The change in position brought Dean not only deeper inside him, but with each upwards thrust was pushing against that amazing spot inside him. Cas’s hands grasped for purchase at Dean’s chest and neck.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” Dean soothed. “I’ve got you babe.”

And with that, Cas pushed Dean backwards so he was leaning back on his hands and Cas could more easily rock down on Dean’s cock. His hands ran covetously up Dean’s chest and gripped tightly at his shoulders, using them essentially like handlebars on a bike. Dean’s hands meanwhile reached up to cup under Cas’s jaw and pull him down for deep open mouthed kisses as Cas quickened the pace of his hips.

Soon he was rocking his hips down furiously onto Dean who he had pushed down onto his back some while ago. He could feel his orgasm slowly burning it’s way through him, starting at his toes and building it’s way up. It only took Dean curling a hand around Cas’s cock and stroking him twice to push him over the edge. White filled his vision and pleasure exploded through him. He vaguely registered being flipped onto his back, his head lolling off the end of the bed as Dean thrusted inside him several more times before succumbing to the pleasure of his own orgasm and collapsing on top of Castiel.

They lay like that for some time, just breathing in the scent of each other and the heaviness of the room before Dean pulled out with a sigh. He pulled Cas up by the hips towards him, his head finally landing back on the soft mattress.

“Are you okay?” Dean whispered into his skin, pressing soft kisses up the expanse of his chest to his neck.

“Mhmm,” Cas mumbled incoherently. Even the soft kisses and trailing of fingers up and down his body was almost too much for his oversensitized nerves, but he didn’t dare turn away attention like this. This was practically body worship.

Dean’s tongue and teeth touched deep into every curve and crevice of his skin, and deft fingers traced every bone and muscle; kissing and claiming every part of him. He was eventually lulled to sleep in the cradle of Dean’s arms and slept soundlessly until morning, dreaming only of warm hands, soft lips, and bright green eyes.

~

Gabriel glared at the darkly the next morning and spent the rest of the day packing up his stuff in a very fussy mood. He’d found an apartment to rent during the school year a couple weeks ago and apparently he had called his landlord to ask if he could move in a little early. The previous tenants had vacated a number of days ago, so he was in luck.

Two days later they handed Charlie the story in it’s entirety. The spread would span four pages in the paper, in addition to a full front page photo about it. Before it could be printed they got in contact with the actual administration of the school to see what to do about confiscating the tapes. They found that they had enough evidence to get a warrant to search the laptop and sure enough, all the tapes were there. A substantial number of them confirmed Dean and Cas’s claims and the school allowed them to print the story while they dealt with the legal side of things.

They knew there would still be some backlash from the school and those CREP members that still had not confessed, but they had enough substantial evidence for the school administration to get involved. Eventually, all the pillars of Richardson’s presidency began to fall and CREP members were confessing left, right and centre. It was Richardson that hung on the longest and it wasn’t until early November, a couple days after Cas’s 19th birthday that they finally got what they had been looking for since the beginning.

Nick Richardson resigned.

It was a good speech, an sincerely apologetic one. Of course, Cas wasn’t sure whether Richardson was more sorry for what he did, or that he got caught doing it. He decided that after all this, he might as well give him the benefit of the doubt and suspected that the majority of it was sincere. He thanked his staff, handed the presidency off to the leader of the Reform Party, and left. Seven of the CREP members which the Post had coined the ‘Skye Room Seven’ were also expelled from the school. A few more had been put on academic probation for a year.

Cas and Dean easily settled into a daily routine. Dean always complained about Cas being so grumpy in the mornings, but Cas was pretty sure that if he really hated it he wouldn’t make him eggs and bacon every morning to greet him.

They hadn’t yet found a story that was quite as exciting as the last one, but they had worked on a number of articles together upon popular demand. They even got an interview with a real news station about their work on the Skye Room story. Cas decided to declare journalism as his minor, happily surprising Dean with the news one day in early January. Cas got his own surprise just a few days later, this one from the whole news team.

“Charlie can I open my eyes now?” Cas pleaded, Dean was holding his hands over Cas’s also closed eyes.

“Not yet sweetheart,” Dean chuckled close to his ear.

Cas knew that he was sitting at his desk, and he could hear a number of people moving around in front of him. After a few more moments of shuffling around Charlie finally declared excitedly that he could open his eyes. Dean’s rough hands fell gently off his face to reveal his friends all crowded around his desk, upon which sat a beautiful, antique blue lamp.

“SURPRISE!” They all cried.

“Welcome to the team!” Charlie smiled. “Officially, that is. We would have done this sooner but Dean insisted on finding the perfect one.”

“He said it matches your eyes...” Becky said dreamily, staring at them with stars in her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah okay...” Dean said embarrassed. Cas shushed him with a quick kiss to his lips.

“Dean, I love it. All of you, thank you so much.” He directed his last comment to the rest of the crowd. The lamp was truly beautiful. It had a deep blue glass shade, and a graceful, curved copper spine. It turned on with a small metal-beaded chain. It suited him perfectly, and he could tell it had been picked with care. By Dean, but also by the rest of the newsies - his friends. It was the thing that finally solidified his place at the paper. That he belonged there.

“Turn it on.” Charlie smiled at him. He looked up at Dean who nodded down to him happily, settling a warm hand onto his shoulder.

Castiel reached his hand up and grasped the little chain lightly and pulled it down an inch and the lamp - his lamp - clicked on.

The newsies clapped and cheered, Dean pressed a quick kiss to his cheek as Cas smiled up at all of them happily. Charlie declared that all work and classes could be skipped for the day because they needed to have the biggest celebration ever. He doubted that everyone would skip class just to celebrate Cas getting a lamp, but they did have a party anyways.

A couple hours later, when the party had simmered down somewhat, Cas found himself in front of the large flat screen TV they had purchased for the office a few weeks ago, watching a re-run of the coverage their local news station had done on their story.

After Richardson resigned, their story had garnered so much attention that Channel 4 News had asked Dean and Cas for a couple interviews on their role in it. They had filmed Richardsons speech a couple days previous, and they showed clips of it intermittently throughout the program. That was the bit that was running now.

It was the very end of the speech, Cas’s favourite part. Richardson, after his apology, began giving advice. Just small tips to everyone so that they wouldn’t make the same terrible mistakes that he did.

“Always give your best, never get discouraged, never be petty; always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself.”

Cas had the words burned into his memory and he doubted he would ever forget them as long as he lived. They were profound, and somehow so incredibly hopeful even though they came from such a dark place in Richardson’s life.

Cas didn’t realize anyone was behind him until the TV shut off. He spun around quickly to find Dean standing there, holding the remote.

“What’re you doing back here, babe?” Dean smiled at him, stepping closer to lean against the desk beside him.

“I noticed that TV interview was on and I was just watching it,” Cas shrugged.

“Ahh, reliving our fifteen minutes of fame,” Dean joked. Cas laughed and shook his head sarcastically.

“I was actually thinking about Richardson,” Cas said seriously.

Dean’s brow furrowed. Cas knew he could get like this sometimes. Constantly questioning their actions and what they had done to get to the story. He knew that Dean did too and it was a topic that came up often. The need to talk about it would go away in time, but for now it was almost a constant thought on each other their minds.

“What specifically about him?” Dean asked.

“His resignation speech, and what he said about ... hating people who hate you. I mean do you... do you think Richardson was right? Do you think he had a point?”

Dean offered Cas a sip from his beer as they pondered Cas’s question.

“I don’t know man, maybe? Do you feel... destroyed?” he shrugged.

“No. But I have you.” Cas smiled, pulling Dean around in front of him to stand between his legs and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And we won.” he added, a little more seriously.

“Wow, now who’s got the ‘firm sense of righteousness’?” Dean teased as his hands found their way under the hem of Cas’s shirt to rub small circles on the soft skin.

“I told you that was a compliment, Dean,” Cas insisted, tingling at Dean’s touch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” Dean pressed a little closer into him and nuzzled under his jaw to tip his head up and slot their mouths together in a deeper kiss. When Dean’s tongue showed up to the game, Cas was a goner.

Charlie was constantly chastising them for being that couple that did not understand boundaries. After they both got over their initial hesitancy to touch each other in public, Cas did it almost on instinct. He greeted Dean at his desk with a kiss enough times now that Charlie was seriously considering writing up ‘Office Rules About PDA’ document, but it probably wouldn’t do much anyways. The last few months had been filled with the most blissful peace Cas had ever had, and there was no way he was ever giving it up. Nothing could possibly dampen the unadulterated happiness that being with Dean gave him. Or the sleepy mornings and very awake nights. Or the fact that Dean had learned how to make coffee exactly the way Cas liked it. It was like every unattainable dream had been made real.

If there was one negative point, it was that he still wasn’t speaking with his family. Gabriel, sure. Anna he had contacted recently as well. But his parents he had not spoken to since last Easter.

He’d spent the past Christmas break with Dean’s family in Lawrence and had a fabulous time seeing Sam and Mary again, but part of him still craved that closeness with his own family. Dean assured him that, in time they would come around, but Cas had his doubts. The last time Gabriel had talked to them he’d tried to bring up the “situation” with Cas, as he had phrased it, but they had ignored all of his attempts.

Despite everything, Cas found he almost didn’t mind. He had found his own family here in Washington and like Dean, he was building his own life here. Any regrets about his family, or hang ups about Richardson were pushed to the back of his mind.

For once in his life, Cas was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. If you did, don't hesitate to drop a kudos or hit me up on tumblr at deanisthesun.tumblr.com


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